


The Years Away

by What_They_Call_Me



Series: Broken Batfamily [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood: Lost Days
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Batman: Red Hood - The Lost Days, Bruce isn't a Good Parent but He is Trying So Hard Okay?, Child Abuse, Dick Grayson is a Good Brother, Gen, Good Older Sibling Jason Todd, Good Parent Talia al Ghul, Jason Todd and Damian Wayne Meet in the League of Assassins, Jason Todd and Damian Wayne are Siblings, Murder, Tiger Mom Talia, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:09:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25245178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/What_They_Call_Me/pseuds/What_They_Call_Me
Summary: Jason wanted to cry, but he couldn’t let himself.Tomorrow, he thought, tomorrow Bruce will come and take away from here.Bruce didn’t come the next day, nor the next. But every night after being beaten Jason would lay in his bed, hoping that Bruce would come and save him.***The four years Jason Todd was away from Bruce Wayne after his death, and the one year he came back.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Talia al Ghul & Jason Todd, Talia al Ghul & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne
Series: Broken Batfamily [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896931
Comments: 45
Kudos: 523





	1. Year One

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes a family is an assassin mother who is afraid of her father, her son who loves animals and hates people, and the zombie kid she kind of adopted, and that's okay!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes a family is an assassin mother who is afraid of her father, her son who loves animals and hates people, and the zombie kid she kind of adopted, and that's okay!

Jason had felt nothing, nothing at all for a long while. Time didn’t really seem to exist wherever he was, neither did anything else it seemed. All he could see was a warm embracing darkness, one that swaddled him like a babe. There was no pain, there was no worry, just Jason floating in the expanse for the first time in his life, feeling protected and cared for.

And then he was tugged, a sharp pull from the nothing back into being. Suddenly Jason could feel everything, feel how each of his muscles screamed and his soul cried as it was returned heavily to his body. He felt the pain of dying again, he felt the pain that might have come if he were to heal from any of those wounds. He felt like a live wire, ripped raw from the protective rubber casings. And most of all, he felt robbed, the feeling of being protected and cared for ripped from his hands.

Green water filled his senses, covering his nose and mouth. He needed to be out, be out of the toxic green water. 

Jason rose from the Pit, rose from the dead, with a deep gasp. The first breath of air he remembered breathing since his death in Ethiopia smelt of sulfur and copper. Jason wondered if this was Hell, if the smell of rotten eggs and blood was his eternal punishment. He opened his eyes, and all he could see was green. It was a toxic ugly color that made him want to punch and kick and maim and destroy.

Jason screamed.

Hands, soft hands were grabbing him, pulling him from the pool. The hands were gentle, but his entire body was one giant nerve, and the feeling of anything on his skin made him scream. It was too much.

He thought he screamed, thought he begged for the hands to stop, but they kept up, drying the droplets of water from his body. He couldn’t see who was touching him, he couldn’t see anything except a blur of slightly darker green that looked to be in an approximate shape of a person. 

Suddenly he was being taken away, those hands ( _those goddamn hands! Get them off!_ ) gently leading him away from the smell of sulfur and blood. And if Jason could find it in himself he would be grateful.

***

It took three days for the green to not be the only thing he saw. It took a week more for the entire world not to be seen through a green tint, like he was wearing colored sunglasses. Finally the green had retreated to the edges of his vision, twinging the whole picture, but no longer distorting it.

All Jason wanted to do was to maim, destroy and kill.

It was like an addiction, he felt the need itching under his skin. 

But Jason still was himself, most days, and he still remembered Bruce’s rules, still remembered that killing was a line that should never be crossed. He would endure this strange need and not indulge, because when Bruce came to rescue him, Jason refused to be changed.

The first day he could see anything besides the blur of hazy shapes Jason had beaten a wall. He kept punching, even as his knuckles split open and blood dirtied the concrete. He punched until he exhausted himself enough to pass out on the floor.

Jason awoke to Talia Al Ghul gently wrapping his knuckles, clicking her tongue over the broken bones but not saying anything else. When he had been punching the wall, he hadn’t felt it, but now his hand was awash with fire hot pain. 

Talia came to him everyday. Most days Talia said nothing, just observed Jason great care. Her gaze was like a cat’s, calculating and fierce, but almost protective. There were few days that she sat in the room reading books of poetry, her voice low and sweet dripping like honey. Jason pretended not to enjoy those days, even though those days were the ones he would cling to when his mind screamed at him to destroy everything.

Jason tried not to notice her. Talia Al Ghul was the daughter of one of Batman’s enemies, and surely she had kidnapped him, or was trying to use him as leverage. That was why he felt numb except for the deep desire to maim and destroy, she had given him something. But any day now Bruce was going to crash through the window and whisk him away, Bruce would come and he would apologize for taking so long. He would give Jason the biggest and deepest hug he could and he would promise never to let Jason out of his sight. Jason just had to hold out for him a little longer.

“Jason!” Talia shouted when she came in to see Jason doing push-ups, despite his broken and casted hand and the fact that his muscles shook with every movement. It was a day worse than the others, the green was overtaking his vision, begging him to hurt something, to destroy something. 

“Please my phoenix, stop this.” Talia said, sitting next to Jason as the boy stubbornly performed another push-up.

Her voice, Jason noticed, fought back the green. So Jason let himself fall onto his chest with a heavy thump. Talia ran one perfectly manicured finger over his forehead, brushing away his sweat plastered hair. 

Jason flinched, Talia’s little contact still too much for him to handle. The woman said nothing, just dropped her hand to her side.

“What do you want from me?” Jason asked, his voice hoarse and thick. This was the first time he spoke since he had awoken in the Pit.

Talia smiled, one without humor. She looked at him, her gaze holding the strength of a thousand suns, “I want you to live Jason.”

***

Jason knew on some level he had died. He remembered it with frightening detail. He remembered the fucking clown’s laughter, he remembered how the crowbar felt when it hit soft flesh. He remembered waiting, pleading and praying to Gods he didn’t even believe in for someone to save him as he watched the numbers click closer to zero.

He remembered what had come next, he remembered vaguely being at peace in the darkness. He remembered how he clawed to stay in the darkness, screaming and begging not to go back. Jason was pretty sure he had spent a months in that darkness, warm and safe, but time worked different there. If you told him it had only been five minutes he would have believed you, likewise if you said that he spent a century in the darkness he would have believed that too. It might have been heaven he was ripped from, Jason didn’t know if he believed in a Heaven, but whatever that darkness was, he missed it.

He knew he had died, but it didn’t click, because he was here and solid. 

Jason would do an exercise until exhaustion claimed him, he would do push ups or sit ups to keep his mind from wandering. It kept him from thinking about how he died at the hands of the Joker, and how he was someone here and alive now. It also kept the need to kill at bay, but just barley. 

He just had to wait for Bruce to come and save him. Bruce would know what to do, Bruce would know how to fix him.

***

Jason had bad days, honestly his bad days probably still outnumbered his good days. But it was on one of his good days that Talia came and took him from the small sparse room he had been staying in. She didn’t say anything when she walked the twisting halls of the compound, finally she came to a door.

Inside Jason was expecting a lot, maybe he would be tortured, maybe murdered, maybe Bruce had finally come to save him. What he wasn’t expecting was a child.

A little boy stood looking out the window, standing far too still for a child of his age. The kid couldn’t be older than three or four, but Jason could see by the way he held himself, the child had seen much. It was the way he held his shoulders, with the same tension Bruce and Alfred had.

The boy turned to look at the two who entered, and tilted his head.

“Mother?” The kid asked. 

“Damian,” Talia smiled, an honest to God smile, as she brushed past Jason to talk to the boy, “I have come to introduce you to Jason. He is your brother.”

That seemed to surprise both Jason and Damian equally. Damian narrowed his eyes at his mother, then his sharp glare was turned to Jason himself. Jason on the other hand was staring at Talia, his mouth opening and closing, but no sound escaping from it.

“I kill him?” Damian asked.

“What the fuck kid?” Jason practically shouted, but honestly what should have he expected from a kid in the League of Shadows, a kid who was also the son of Talia Al Ghul? 

“Children!” Talia spoke sharply, her tone making both boys quiet, had their gazes fixed to the ground, “Please be civil with each other.”

“Yes mother.” Damian said immediately.

Jason wanted to laugh, the child had gone from assassin to scolded brat in the span of seconds. It was all very familiar, like Bruce scolded Jason when he got over zealous on patrol. It made his heart ache heavily, but the green had receded more at the sight.

“You too Jason.” Talia said.

For a long moment Jason didn’t know what she was talking about. After thinking for an embarrassing amount of time, Jason realized she wanted him to agree to be civil with the runt.

Jason tried to hide the way the corners of his mouth quirked up when he agreed.

The three of them spent the day training. It was fairly easy training, easier even than the training he had with Bruce. Talia took them through the movements of Tai Chi. She spoke in her honey sweet voice, guiding them through the movements, telling them to clear their minds, to feel nothing. The meditation part was easy for Jason, since he had come back, everything about him was slightly muted, his feelings and his senses all operating as if they had to travel a far way to get to him. 

Damian had trouble with the poses, his body still young and chubby with baby fat. His equilibrium was not yet honed, and often during a pose, Damian’s body would quiver, or he fell.

Talia would fix him with a disappointed look, “Again Damian.”

Both Jason and Damian had to hold the poses until Talia deemed that they had mastered it. She would have them hold a difficult position so long even Jason’s muscles strained. She pushed the two of them to their limit, and when she was done she nodded in approval.

“We will have lunch.” Talia exclaimed, “I am teaching Damian to read, we will read _The Grapes of Wrath._ ”

Jason wanted to say that the book was too much for a child Damian’s age, but the kid was glaring at him with a look sharper than an assassin’s knife, so Jason wisely kept his mouth shut.

***

After their first day together more came, they weren’t every day, but often twice a week. Jason was never left alone with Damian, and the kid didn’t seem to like him very much. It was a month since he had begun to spend time with the two Al Ghul’s, Jason’s broken hand had finally healed enough to take off the bandages and cast. 

At one point he stopped hoping that Bruce would burst through the window, taking down Talia and everyone in the compound before running away with Jason. Now he hoped that Bruce would come and liberate Talia and Damian (the kid was a brat and annoying, but Jason still felt a protective urge over take him when he was with the kid). Bruce would take the three of them back to the manor and he would keep them all safe from the League.

Today, Jason and Damian sat on opposite sides of a small low table, a book open between them. Talia was lounging on a couch, sharpening one of her many knives with a wet stone, but her gaze focused on the boys. They were reading currently reading _Beowulf_ (Jason chose it, because he though Damian might enjoy the adventure in it’s pages) when someone had knocked on the door.

A moment later a league member stepped into the room, their eyes flicking about, assessing threats and escape routes the moment they were in a new space. It was a trait that all the league members seemed to have, one Jason wished he had when he was with Bruce.

Talia stood, her movement fluid and sharp, “I will be back in a moment. Continue the lesson.”

Jason felt something reach up from his stomach and hold tightly to his throat as he watched Talia slip through the door. His body was now as taut as a bow string, his eyes sliding between the door and Damian. He didn’t even know why he was so nervous, it could be because he was left alone with the kid, or it could be because there was something wrong, Jason could tell by the way Talia moved, and it but him on edge.

The kid wasted no time in disobeying his mother, he stood from his spot, getting in Jason’s face, “I am the heir to the Demon throne! You will not take it from me, I don’t care if you are older, I am the best.”

Jason didn’t know what to say, the kid’s face was red with anger. If it were any other four year old, it would have been adorable, but Damian was practically born with a knife in his hand. And it wasn’t that Jason was scared of the child - really he wasn’t okay - it was just, Jason didn’t want to end up in a physical confrontation with the kid.

“I don’t want to be heir to anything.” Jason finally shrugged. “I’m not heir to anything.”

The kid stood back, blinking as if the words made no sense to him.

“But, you are my brother. You should be next in line.” Damian asked.

“I’m your brother, but not by blood.” Jason said solemnly. Damian stood still, his head tilted to the side carefully, still confused. So Jason sighed, “Family can be what you make it. And Family of choice has a stronger bond than family of blood.”

If Damian was going to say anything else it is interrupted by Talia slamming the door open. Damian and Jason both stood at attention, but Talia wasn’t looking at them. She was pacing the room, practically radiating her fury.

And then she stopped, turning to look at Jason sharply, “We must go back to your room. Now.”

In his room, still bare and sparse, Talia told him that he was required to start training. She didn’t sound happy about it, and Jason didn’t understand, because Talia had been training him for months, teaching him moves and tai chi. He couldn’t understand why she was acting so tensely.

The next morning, just as the sun rose over the horizon, Jason understood. The training was brutal, his teacher pushed and pushed. She kept hitting, even after he was down. She kept hitting until his mouth tasted of blood, and his vision was blurry.

Every time her hands touched his skin he wanted to scream. Jason could barley handle gentle touches, but when he was fighting, it felt like his skin had been flayed back and his core was exposed. The feeling made Jason cry out, and his teacher hit him harder for that.

Then the teacher would yank him up by his arm and demand she do it again.

The green that swam at the edges of his vision threatened to take over with every brutal hit. 

That night Talia didn’t come to visit him in his room, and so he curled up on his bed, his entire body weeping. He stared at the spot on the wall, the one that still had his blood dried onto it, from when he had lost control and beat the wall. 

Jason wanted to cry, but he couldn’t let himself.

 _Tomorrow_ , he thought, _tomorrow Bruce will come and take away from here._

*** 

Bruce didn’t come the next day, nor the next. But every night after being beaten Jason would lay in his bed, hoping that Bruce would come and save him. The end of his first week of training, Jason had seen Damian only once, the kid looked at him carefully. Both Talia and Damian watched him, and Jason knew they longed to reach out, to hug Jason, but they were bound by the rules. No attachments in the League. Even if they could touch him, Jason was still too raw after the Pit.

His teacher was kicking at him, and Jason was trying to jump away. He mostly knew evasive maneuvers, thanks to Bruce’s training, and his teacher was growing annoyed. She expected Jason to copy the moves she made, the moves she used against him. She didn’t teach, nor did she show, really she only attacked him.

“You are weak!” The teacher groaned annoyed, when a round-house kick sent Jason sprawling on his ass, “No wonder the Bat has already replaced you.”

It was like he was suddenly in a vacuum, everything sucked out of the room. There was no air, his breath caught in his chest. And he could hear nothing but the ringing in his ears. The green was threatening to take over, creeping from the edges of his vision to the center.

“What?” Jason asked, his voice choked.

His teacher laughed her voice haughty and superior, “Oh you didn’t know Little Bird? The Bat replaced you before you were even cold in your grave. Didn’t even do anything about the Joker either, just put him back in jail. Seems as though you were nothing to him, just a kid suited to fight in his war.”

The green had completely taken over, washing everything in the toxic color. Blood roared in his ears, he couldn't ear anything outside of it.

_maim, destroy, kill._

Jason lunged at the teacher, he grabbed her by the throat, knocking her to the ground. Her head connected with the concrete grounds of the training room. She was smirking at him. 

_Maim, destroy, kill._

She pushed him off of her, making him stumble back. His anger was heightened now. He came at her, punching wildly, she dodged just as easily. 

_Maim, Destroy, Kill._

But he kept going, possessed by the Pit madness. He ran at her, until she was on the ground again. 

_Maim. Destroy. Kill._

He held her by the neck, slamming her head up and then into the concrete. 

_Maim.Destroy.Kill_

And again. 

_MAIM.DESTROY.KILL._

And Again. 

_MAIMDESTROYKILL_

He kept slamming her head onto the ground until his hands were sticky and warm with blood. Brain matter stuck to the floor, grey and disgusting.

He came back to himself for just a moment, staring at what he had done. His teacher lay motionless, lifeless beneath him, her brown eyes frozen looking up at nothing. There was still a smile on her face, and Jason wanted to be sick.

There was one rule with Bruce, and Jason failed.

No wonder Bruce had replaced him. 

The green returned, and the desire to maim, destroy, and kill yelling at him. But Jason couldn’t, he couldn’t do this again.

So he ran, just chose a direction, and ran as far as he could, but no one can out run the demon’s in their own head. He ran in the craggy dunes of the desert, until his legs gave way. His chest was too tight, his rib cage suffocating him. 

He threw up, and then rolled over into unconsciousness.

Jason slept in the elements that night. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew there was at least one member of the league who had followed him, probably would kill him in his sleep. Jason welcomed the idea, maybe he could just return to that blackness.

But the next morning, Jason awoke still very much alive. His hands still covered in blood, and he smelt of his own sick.

He walked back to the compound, his feet burning on the sand. 

He returned to no welcome, no one stopped him, even as he walked the halls to Talia’s room with blood drenched hands. The door slammed open under his touch, neither Damian nor Talia jumped, but they did tense. 

Damian’s eyes widened when he saw Jason, he opened his mouth to say something, but Jason directed a question to Talia before the kid could say a word, “Did you know? Did you know he _replaced_ me?”

Even the word _replaced_ made the madness want to return, made Jason want to tear something apart, to destroy it with his bare hands. It made him want to kill Bruce!

Talia’s face was stoney as ever, but Jason thought he saw a flash of something. Maybe he just hoped she felt something. 

It didn’t matter, because Talia replied with an even tone, “Yes, I did.”

Jason wanted to throttle her, to scream at her, but restrained himself only for Damian’s sake. The kid was watching the exchange with wide eyes, looking between both Talia and Jason with a scowl.

Instead of killing her, Jason turned away and stormed to his room. He felt like a moody teenager, slamming the door to his room shut. He lay on his bed, staring at the spot on his wall, and he cried hot tears. He didn’t expect Bruce to come to his rescue anymore, no one would rescue him, if he wanted out that then he would have to leave himself.

***

“Akhi.” A voice whispered, awakening Jason from his sleep suddenly. Damian was sitting beside his bed, looking at Jason with wide eyes. The room was still dark, Damian held a small oil lamp near his face, it made he look even more babyish.

Groaning, Jason sat up, his entire body was a giant bruise.

“I turned five yesterday.” Damian said matter-o-factly.

“Shit.” Jason said, he was tired and couldn’t put a lot of emotions behind it, “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything.”

Damian blinked tilting his head at Jason’s words, “Why would you do anything for my birth. I am informing you because I am now five, I am old enough now to be told about what is happening.”

There was so much Jason wanted to unpack in the statement alone, but he didn’t have the energy for that. All Jason wanted to do, was take a long shower (he never thought he would miss showers as much as he does) and sleep for a few years.

“Listen kid-” Jason started.

“I just told you imbecile, I am no longer a kid.” Damian interrupted with a huff.

Taking a deep breath Jason tried again, “I don’t know what your mother told you. And I am not going behind Tiger Mom’s back.”

Damian crossed his arms over his shoulder, and the kid pouted. When Damian did that, he really looked his age. The kid was so smart, and acted like a small adult, that Jason sometimes forgot how young he really was. 

“Mother has told me nothing!” Damian shouted, “But I know when my brother needs assistance. And I am old enough to fight by your side, so tell me who has wronged you.”

Jason didn’t speak for a long moment, who hadn’t wronged him. Jason had been born wronged, any child that was the spawn of Willis Todd was wronged from the start. And then the streets of Gotham, they were his home but also his abuser. Gotham gave and took in equal measure. And then there was the Joker, the man who had actually murdered him, killed him like it was a game. Of course there was Bruce, the man who had taken him in, the man who Jason thought was finally going to be good to him, the man who let him die and then replaced him like nothing more than a cog in a machine. 

But as much as Jason hated those people, he hated them so much that he saw green, he didn’t want to blacken Damian’s heart with them. Damian was a kid born wronged too, but Jason would do all he could to keep him from being destroyed by it like Jason had.

“Before I was your family, I had another.” Jason finally said, he tasted each word carefully, and Damian listened with bated breath, “And that family let terrible things happen.”

“That’s why you came to our family.” Damian nodded understandably, and Jason felt a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

They stood in silence for a minute, and then Damian proclaimed, “You smell terrible. Take a bath.”

And then Damian left Jason’s room. Jason actually laughed, before running himself a bath, and dipping in. He washed away the blood that had been on him for two full days, it turned the water an ugly pink.

He went to training, and there was a new teacher, as if nothing had happened. The blood had been scrubbed from the floor of the training room. Jason’s new teacher didn’t say anything, just gave Jason a staff, and then ran towards Jason.

After the session with his teacher, Jason had large welts over his flesh. He was on his way back to his room, but Talia caught Jason’s eye. 

“Oh my phoenix.” Talia said, her voice was soft, and almost pitying, but Talia didn’t pity, “my Beloved, your father, he is a man who thinks himself a mountain, he doesn’t realize he is a human like the rest of us.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” 

Talia smiled, it was a sad smile. She reached out, as if to put her hand on Jason’s shoulder, but stopped herself at the last moment. 

“One day, you will.” Talia promised.

Jason thought he might have forgiven Talia in that moment. He shouldn’t have, but he did.

***

Jason’s sixteenth birthday, (they weren’t really sure how his aging process would work, because he had been dead for a year before reviving and was catatonic for three months before he was aware of what happened) came fast. Talia, who claimed that birthdays were something that shouldn’t be celebrated, made sure the three of them were together the entire day for his birthday. They had practiced their endurance, racing up and down the craggy desert dunes all day, until they they were all sticky with sweat and Damian was red that he hadn’t won.

Jason was now on his third teacher. No one had been more shocked when Jason had bested the second teacher in combat and so one of the lead assassins had forced Jason to slaughter the teacher (If he is bested by the student, he is no longer of use to the League). It made the Pit hungry, craving more destruction and lead him to murdering the assassin who had given the order. He hadn't even been with the League a year and had already killed three people.

He had seen Damian the night of his second and third kill. The boy was going through the moves of his kata, and Jason had just stared. Because Damian was a small gleaming light, and Jason ruined everything he touched with his grubby fingers. He didn’t deserve to be in Damian’s life.

But Damian had noticed him, stopping his kata, the young boy tilted his head at Jason, “What is wrong?”

“Damian.” His voice was choked and raw, “have you killed someone yet?”

Damian actually balked at the question, “Of course not, I am to take my first life when I’m six, as is the custom.”

Jason sank to his knees so he was at eye level with the kid. He put his two large blood drenched hands on both of Damian’s tiny shoulders, and pulled the kid into a tight and desperate hug.

“What are you doing?” Damian muttered, “Unhand me at once!”

“Damian, killing someone hurts you too. It takes a bit of you, kills a little of your soul with the person you just killed. It’s different when it is a situation of kill or be killed, your soul doesn’t shatter the same way.” Jason whispered sounding like those books he used to read in the Wayne library, “Don’t kill anyone, I don’t want your soul to die.”

“You’re an imbecile.” Damian had whispered into his brother’s shoulder, but he had considered and promised.

When Jason had finally looked up from the bone crushing hug he saw Talia watching the whole exchange, a protect fierceness in her eyes. She smiled to Jason, and nodded before leaving the room.

The following week something changed in the air, tension crackled like electricity and a hush fell over the usually quiet compound. Ra’s Al Ghul was coming to visit.

Jason had seen pictures of the man in Bruce’s files. Jason had said that he looked like a poor man’s Vincent Van Price, and Bruce had laughed. Back then Jason had assumed that if he ever met the Demon, Ra’s wouldn’t be scary, he was just a Van Price reject.

Boy had Jason been wrong.

Ra’s felt like a monster, one look at the man and it was plain to see the monster that was hiding just beneath the flesh. There was a touch of mania in the man’s eyes, the eyes that were the same green as the pit, the same green that kept tugging at Jason whispering for him to kill another. Ra’s simply oozed the scent of danger, he was completely lethal, and it made Jason’s skin crawl.

Ra’s called his family forward, as well as Jason. Everyone was surprised by this, even Talia’s eyes had widened for a single moment. 

The three stood before Ra’s, standing straight and tall, their heads bowed in the presence of a superior. 

“The son of the detective.” Ra’s said, his tone bored. Jason could feel the toxic green eyes trained on him, but he didn’t move nor react to the gaze. “So this is what you wasted my Pit on.”

Damian stiffened beside his mother, but no one else reacted. Jason waited, breath held tightly in his chest, for Talia to say something.

“He will be a great asset.” Talia spoke impassively.

And it cut Jason deeply, more deeply than he cared to admit. Because it seemed that for everyone Jason was just a convenient soldier to have. A boy who would jump to follow orders, who will do anything for the first person to shell out a small modicum of kindness to him. The whispers of green came into his vision, but Jason dug his finger nails into his palms, until red bloomed in small crescents.

“You truly believe he could be an asset to the League daughter?”

“Yes father.” 

There was a beat of silence, one that was too tense for Jason’s liking.

“Then he goes tomorrow to train with Kirigi.”

The change in the air happened immediately, while it had been tense before, now everything in the room was charged with electricity. Jason wanted to scream, he didn’t want to train with anyone else. Damian’s entire body tightened, like the string of a bow, fire it’s arrow. Even Talia shifted her weight to the balls of her feet, almost imperceptible if he had not been right next to her.

“As you wish father.” Talia said evenly, no sign of her anxiety, “We shall take our leave.”

Talia took them both to her room. When they were safely behind the closed doors of her quarters, Talia showed her anger, showed as her hands shook and her gaze turned icy.

“Mother?” Damian asked, his voice was quiet, and it showed how young the boy truly was. Sometimes Jason forgot that Damian was so young, only five years old, the boy acted like an adult trapped in a small body.

Jason wanted to ask what it meant, wanted to know what it meant that he was going away. Was he being replaced here too?

“Jason,” Talia said, meeting his eyes, “He is sending you to train, but I will find a way to get you back. You will be here with us again my phoenix.”


	2. Year Two

The private jet left early on the one year anniversary of Jason’s resurrection, taking him away from Talia and Damian. Jason had spent the night in their room, Damian wouldn’t let go of his brother all night, clinging tightly and stiffly as he slept. And Jason had allowed it all night, even as the contact made his skin itch and crawl. Talia had watched with something that was almost a smile. Then early in the morning Talia took Jason to the plane, preparing him for the journey. 

“You will do well, I know it.” Talia had promised, she reached out, like she was about to put a hand on his cheek, but stopped herself at the last moment.

It was Jason who hugged her, it was a loose awkward hug, but Talia returned the embrace whole heartedly.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” Jason promised giving Talia a small salut before climbing the steps of the plane. Talia stood, watching, until the plane engines roared to life.

Jason looked from the plane’s window as the desserts faded away and the plane crept higher above a clouded sky. The trip was only a couple of hours.

When he stepped off the plane, the cold air swirled around him, chilling his bones. Jason didn’t even have a chance to put his bags down, a man was running towards him, a staff in hand. The man beat Jason, who only got a few blows in response.

Jason fell to the snow, his clothes suited for a hot dessert climate, not the wet and cold. A line of red blood rushed from his nose. The man stood back, looking disappointed, “You are nothing, I can not teach something like you.”

There was no question that this man was Kirigi, who Jason was supposed to train with. Talia had told him, that Kirigi had trained Bruce, and now the old man was to teach Jason. When he had pictured Kirigi, his mind saw an old man, like the wise ancient elders from the movies. This man wasn't the kind patient teacher Jason had pictured, really it was his fault for thinking the League would employ someone kind. Kirigi was already disappointed, already saw Jason as nothing, as worse than Bruce. It made Jason want to scream, made him want to tear his hair out and shout at everything. The green of the pit came towards him, wanting to taste this man’s blood. 

And so Jason rushed, attacking from behind, hands balled into tight fists. Tackling the old man from behind. Kirigi actually stumbled forward, but did not fall.

Kirigi spun around, throwing Jason off of him. Jason landed, lithe as a cat, on the balls of his feet. 

Kirigi swung with his staff, Jason reached for the weapon and pulled it. Tapping into his pit madness, into his rage and strength, and pulled the staff from the man’s hand. The staff was thrown into a snow drift, and Jason ran again at the man.

The blows that were exchanged were fast, each move blocked. Jason was good, but Kirigi was much better, blocking every move the younger made, with a wry look.

But the exchange bored Kirigi, and he finally flipped Jason onto his back. 

Jason gasped, the air knocked from his lungs. And then a black boot was on his throat, stepping just a little too hard, the green was fading replaced by blackness of sleep instead. Jason hit Kirigi’s foot three times, tapping out like he had seen wrestlers do.

Kirigi did not release him, he was just examining Jason, a specimen under a microscope, “You are still Nothing.” Kirigi said finally removing his foot and offering Jason a hand up, “But I will teach you.”

Jason nodded, hit body sore and cold. The snow had seeped through his shirt and made him shiver.

Kirigi did not show him to his room, instead he had a servant boy, who looked no older than eight, take Jason to a small room the size of a closet. In it was a small bed roll and a single thin blanket. Jason sighed, already missing his room back with Talia and Damian.

Jason was left to wander the halls the rest of the day, and so he looked around, hoping to find a library. Instead he found different training rooms, filled with weapons, some flecked with blood. He didn’t see anyone, but he could hear grunts of sparring, telling him he wasn’t alone.

Finally Jason made his way to a window that over looked the sheer edge of a cliff. There was no bottom, as far as Jason could tell, just a giant fall.

“Rumor has it that the students who don’t impress Kirigi are pushed from the edge.” A voice said behind Jason, sounding bored at the news.

Jason turned to see a girl, probably only his age, looking at the window. The girl was beautiful, with long thick black hair, and dark mesmerizing eyes, she wore a smile that was as sharp as a knife. 

Before Jason had died he was interested in girls, at his school he would look at Barbara and wish he could be Dick, wish he could be with her, because she was so beautiful. Sometimes at school Jason got lost in thought, thinking of different girls he wouldn’t mind dating, wouldn’t mind holding hands with or kissing. But when he came back, Jason didn’t want to look at anyone like that (this fact was exasperated by the fact the only woman he saw with regular frequency was Talia who was much older than him, and had begun to treat Jason like a child). But this girl made Jason’s heart thump, and his hands sweaty.

“The name’s Lana.” The girl smiled, “Dinner is about to be served.”

Lana took Jason to the dinning hall. She smiled as Jason fumbled over himself to introduce himself.

In the dining hall Jason was met with five other kids, all around his age. Most of them didn’t speak, those who did were haughty and acted superior. Each one sported an injury of some sort.

“We are the best of each compound.” Lana explained, “Only the best get sent to train with Kirigi.”

Jason kept waiting for Kirigi to come to the dinner table. But the food was served by child servants. A warm thick stew placed before them, and a piece of stale bread.

All the teens tore into the food like starving wolves, Jason wasn’t so desperate. The food was bland compared to what he was given in Nanda Parbat.

The next morning Jason had to wait for three other students to have lessons before Kirigi came to get him. He trained in one of the rooms with the other students as he waited, working on his strength. The old man looked angry when he came into the room, he pointed a short wrinkled finger at Jason, “Nothing, it is your turn.”

Jason turned red at being called _Nothing_ infront of everyone else. 

“Nothing.” Kirigi instructed as they stood outside of the compound, on the flat part of a mountain, the wind wiping cold and dangerous around them, “Show me your stance.”

Jason dropped into a stance, one that _Bruce_ (even in his mind the name was spat in malice) had taught him. On the balls of his feet, his body taught and ready for the attack.

Kirigi didn’t say anything, but he used his cane to wack Jason’s left shoulder. When Jason didn’t move, he was lashed again, welts appeared on his skin, hot and angry.

“You are dropping your shoulder.” Kirigi shouted, hitting Jason again with a harsh move.

Jason gritted his teeth, but corrected his stance. 

The lesson only lasted an hour, and it mostly revolved around Kirigi hitting Jason time and time again, with harsh strikes of the cane. When Jason returned to the training rooms, he was sore and angry, strung tight and ready to snap.

“Don’t worry.” Lana said as soon as Kirigi left with another student, “The first lesson is the hardest.”

“Yeah,” Jason but out, rubbing at his shoulder, “Kirigi is an ass, an old wrinkly ass.”

Lana laughed, it was a tinkering sound, one that Jason felt light in his chest, “That old ass has yet to be beaten by anyone other than Lady Shiva, Mistress Talia and the Demon King.”

All of that would have probably been more impressive if Jason cared.

“Would you like to spar?” Lana asked, and Jason couldn’t think of anything else to do, so he shrugged and agreed.

Jason spent the next three months learning under Kirigi, who was not a patient teacher. Whenever Jason made a mistake, he was hit sharply with a wooden cane. But it didn’t matter, because Jason was getting better, his skills more honed. 

When he wasn’t doing one-on-one lessons with Kirigi, Jason was sparring with Lana. The two spent most of their time together, laughing at the others who were too serious for their taste. Lana made Jason feel more alive than he had since his death, especially when her sharp smile turned to him, or when he saw a wicked glint in her eyes.

Lana was the first person Jason had been with intimately. They had fallen together after a long day of sparring and of Kirigi beating them with a cane. Jason’s unskilled hands traced over her scars, fingers ghosting over the raised skin with a great gentleness. Lana had moved like a hurricane, her mouth trailing over every bit of him. It was awkward and fast, but it was good for both of them.

They laid in bed together when it was done, both drowsy but happy to be together. Jason looked into Lana’s wicked dark eyes and his heart yearned to be closer, even though he was holding her already. And Jason knew, he knew, he was only sixteen but he thought this might be love. Because all Jason wanted was to be with her, forever.

When Jason crept from her bed roll to his, there was a smile on his face. It was partly because of the actions of the night, but also because that itch under his skin had subsided. The feeling of being too raw and too exposed had faded away, and he was able to be with someone without wanting to hurt them.

 _This is what healing looks like_ , Jason told himself. He was opening up again, he was living again, not just going through the motions.

The next morning they went to get breakfast together as if nothing was different, and the other students on Kirigi’s mountain didn’t seem to notice.

“Why do you think the old man calls us all Nothing?” Jason asked that morning around a stale piece of bread.

Kirigi called each of his pupils _Nothing_ , as if that was their name. It had taken Jason a couple of days to realize the nickname was directed at everyone and not just him, but it still made his cheeks burn.

Lana’s dark eyes sparkled, “He just can’t remember all of our names, so he calls us all nothing so he won’t forget.”

Kirigi came in that morning, his cane in hand. Jason almost flinched upon seeing it, but he knew if he did he would receive even more beatings. The little bit of conversation stopped when their teacher entered the room. Never before had any of the students seen Kirigi outside their lessons, somehow he was more terrifying standing at the head of the table than he was upon the battle field.

Kirigi looked around and then pointed his old finger at Jason and Lana both, “Nothings, it’s time for your final lesson.”

Jason and Lana both said nothing, silently following Kirigi out the front door to the flat plateau where Kirigi held most of his lessons. The snow was starting to fall, gentle and delicate but bitterly cold. 

“It is your last lesson.” Kirigi said, looking between his two pupils, “One of your must kill the other.”

Jason balked, it felt like the floor was falling from beneath his feet. He glanced to Lana, who wore a grim look, her face steely and ready.

Jason didn’t know how she could be so calm, he was freaking out. There was no way he could kill her, he couldn’t kill the person that was making him begin to breath again. And he hoped that she felt the same way.

“You may use these.” Kirigi said, handing both Lana and Jason a chuanmei dao sword. Jason stared at the curved steel edge in horror, he had practiced with this weapon, even drew small amounts of blood during practices, but he had never used it to kill. It felt odd in his hand now, heavier with the knowledge of its intended victim.

“Begin.” Kirigi shouted.

Jason didn’t have time to prepare, because Lana was running at him, her sword raised, poised to kill him. In her eyes wasn’t the wicked happy sparkle Jason had seen the night before, it wasn’t his Lana, she looked steely and dark.

Jason used the sword to block. The clang of metal reverberated in his ear.

He could have slashed or stabbed at her, could have gone on the offensive, but all Jason could see was the girl he was in love with. 

Lana didn’t have the same worried. She kept advancing. Kept slashing at him with calculated blows. The look behind her eyes ominous, she was after the kill. One slash met flesh, a deep gash in his arm.

Jason hissed, but Lana didn’t stop. She didn’t care that Jason was hurt, she didn’t care about him at all.

Just like Bruce hadn’t cared.

After Jason died (again) Lana would probably go home and find someone to replace Jason. Someone else would lay in bed by Lana’s side, because Jason wasn’t enough. And he would never be enough!

The green madness came, but Jason didn’t really notice. His mind was screaming, roaring at the many betrayals he faced. 

He fought viciously, violent blow after violent blow, beating Lana back, who wasn’t able to keep up with his brutal pace.

“I am not replaceable!” Jason screamed just as the sword squelched through Lana’s chest. He pierced her heart in a single harsh movement. 

Lana’s eyes were open, wide and surprised, as she fell to the ground, her blood soaking the white snow red. The wickedness, that had been so cunning and endearing faded away, leaving her eyes milky and filled with nothing.

Jason’s gut churned, his throat tasted of acid, but no matter how disgusted the picture was, he didn’t vomit. Instead he stared at the blood, looked at how it changed the color of the snow, like one of those stupid abstract paintings that used to hang in Wayne Enterprises.

“Well done Jason.” Kirigi said, it was the first time the old man had said his name, and Jason wished he wouldn’t. He felt like Nothing, that name fit him better, “Though you focused too much on the defensive in the beginning.”

Jason didn’t say a word, just stared at the body that used to be Lana.

There was a sharp crack across his face, Kirigi had hit him across the face with the cane.

“What the Hell?” Jason shouted, “I thought I already finished my last lesson!”

Kirigi rolled his eyes before beginning to drag the limp body of Lana towards the cliff face. “You are an assassin now. Act like it.”

And then Kirigi threw Lana off the cliff face.

***

Jason returned to Nanda Parbat sullen. He could see Lana’s hallow eyes every time he closed his own, and it haunted him. But Kirigi was right, Jason was an assassin now, he had taken three lives, and he must learn to deal with it, instead of wallowing. But Lana had been the first person he had even known the name of. She had a face and a name in his mind, and that was gone.

When he stepped off the plane, he hadn’t expected a welcome, he thought that Talia would have replaced him, found another lonely child to take an interest to, and was thus shocked when Damian flung himself around Jason’s feet. The child hugged Jason’s legs tightly, burying his face in them, and Talia smiled, warmly.

“I am glad to see you returned to us.” Talia said, her voice warming him up after months in the harsh winter.

“You are bigger Ahki.” Damian informed him when the kid finally let go.

Jason had always been small, underweight. It came from malnutrition as a child, and he was told there would be no way to counteract it. But now he stood taller and bulkier, a hard wall of muscles and scars. He figured it was from the Lazarus Pit, restoring his body to how it should be, but in reality Jason didn’t care.

“Yeah well, I think you got smaller Shortstack.” Jason laughed ruffling Damian’s hair. The boy wasn’t pleased by this, slapping Jason’s hand away, and pouting.

It was a lie, Damian was slight and small, but the kid was growing like a weed, and in the three months Jason had been away Damian definitely gained and inch or two. 

The boys were ushered to Talia’s quarters, the room hadn’t changed much, except there was now a small cot pushed into the corner of the room, near Damian’s bed. Jason’s eyes gravitated to it immediately.

“Having another kid Tals?” Jason asked pointing to the cot.

“TT.” Damian huffed, still upset about the short comment, “It’s for you idiot.”

Jason stared at the cot, eyes wide. This room was meant only for Al Ghuls. They were royalty among assassins, it was insane to think that Jason was allowed to be a part of that.

But when Jason looked to Talia for confirmation, the woman was smiling softly, “If you want it.”

“Of course he wants it.” Damian assured his mother before Jason could even open his mouth, “He is family, and family must be together.”

To that, Jason agreed. 

Later that day, when Damian was sent away for lessons with his tutor, Talia sat next to Jason. She poured them both a warm cup of tea loaded with sweet honey.

“I tried to get you out of that training.” Talia said, taking a sip of her drink, her eyes downcast. “I failed you.”

“I killed her.” Jason whispered his voice tight, “I killed her.”

“I know, Kirigi told me.”

“I didn’t want to. But she kept coming at me.”

Hot embarrassing tears welled in Jason’s eyes. He focused on the tea steeping before him, watched as a singular tear fell from his face into the cup, causing tiny ripples to form. Talia didn’t look at him, just took a long sip from her own cup. 

“May I hug you Jason?” Talia asked suddenly, her voice thick.

Jason didn’t know how to answer, he felt poisoned and damaged. His skin was no longer raw and livid when he was touched, but the last person he had been with went mad. There was probably a dark poison that seeped from his pores and corrupted everything he touched, and even though Talia Al Ghul was a villain to Gotham, she was one of the only bright lights in his life. Jason wouldn’t be able to live with himself if Talia attacked him too, if he was forced to kill Talia.

“You know, someone once told my son that ‘killing another takes a bit of you, kills a little of your soul with. But it’s different when it is a situation of kill or be killed, your soul doesn’t shatter the same way.’” Talia finally said, noticing Jason’s unease, “I know that Lana wouldn’t have stopped until you were dead. You did what you had to do to come home to us.”

She didn’t sound happy about it, like she could have stopped all of this if she had tried a _little_ bit harder. But Jason didn’t blame her, in the end it was his hands covered in Lana’s blood and he would carry her death on his shoulders.

Jason leaned over, hugging Talia tightly, the woman sagged in the embrace. She held him back, patting his hair and whispering in Arabic. 

“If I could keep you from harm, if I could keep you from killing I would.” Talia whispered fiercely into Jason’s hair, and Jason actually believed her.

***

Despite returning from Kirigi, Jason was forced to continue lessons on Nanda Parbat. His new teacher was a older woman, aged with both wrinkles and scars. She taught him weapons, both ancient and modern. The first time he got a lesson in shooting pistols Jason had actually laughed, picturing badass ninjas with machine guns.

“The modern way is they easiest.” His teacher warned, placing a cold heavy gun into Jason’s palm, “and thus it is messy and uncouth. More casualties fall at the hands of a gun than a sword.”

Then without warning or preamble she shot Jason in the shoulder.

It wasn’t the first time he had been shot, and Jason was quickly realizing it wouldn’t be the last. But the wound felt of fire, licking through his veins. He had yelled once, before clamping down his jaw, unwilling to show any more weakness.

“Now shoot the targets.” His teacher instructed, pointing to the line of targets before him.

“Fuck you!” Jason gritted out, using his free hand to put pressure on his shoulder, the gun hanging limply is his other hand.

His teacher shot again, this one just grazed his arm, the same arm that had already been shot, leaving him in comparatively less pain. But bullet wounds hurt like a bitch, even if they are just grazes, and his arm felt as if it were on fire.

So Jason gritted his teeth, and raised his pained arm to shoot the first target.

The bullet hit the outer most ring.

On the second target Jason didn’t fair much better, the bullet piecing the same ring on the opposite side. 

The third target Jason actually hit the center, going only a little wide. 

Then the fourth target Jason completely missed.

All in all it was a piss poor show, but Jason’s arm was screaming at the abuse so Jason counted the one almost bullseye a win.

Clearly his teacher did not, “Again, until you get better.”

Jason shot again, and again. His shots not landing much closer to their marks.

“Lady, I can’t do this. My arm hurts and I want to sleep it off.” Jason complained, the blood loss clearly making him brave.

“You must learn to fight while injured. The enemy will not stop because you were wounded.”

And so Jason shot the targets again.

Eventually he hit his marks. When he was dismissed, sent to the infirmary to sew up his wound (without anesthetic) Jason realized that this older woman was his favorite teacher so far, because her lessons hurt but at least they were understandable.

When Jason returned to Talia’s room he was met with the woman’s sharp gaze on his blood soaked shoulder. But Damian, too absorbed in himself to notice Jason, was excited to show Jason the new moves he learned. 

And so Jason watched Damian clumsily make his way through a series of offensive maneuvers with bated breath. He congratulated the boy on perfect form when it was done, and gently corrected him when needed. His shoulder hurt all night, but Damian was so proud of his work that Jason couldn’t help but smile at the kid.

***

One night, Jason lay asleep in his designated room, away from Talia and Damian for the first time in weeks. He was still sleeping off his bullet wound, laying on his stomach to avoid aggravating it. Five men burst from the window, taking Jason from his bed.

He fought viciously, using everything he knew about fighting. Sharp fists and gnashing teeth into flesh. Jason may be training as an assassin, but first and foremost he was a street kid, and he could fight dirty when needed. His kidnappers were too strong, they took him down, two grabbing at his arms and two grabbing at his legs. One hit him in the head, hard enough that his vision blurred before he succumbed to unconsciousness.

When Jason awoke he was tied to a chair. His restraints were tight ropes, his hands zip tied behind his back tight enough that he was losing circulation. He had been stripped of all his clothes, only his underwear remained, and Jason bit his lip at the thought of people removing his clothes. 

Unprovoked images flashed into his mind, remembering the last time he was in this position. Hearing that sick man’s laughter echoing in his head.

Jason fought against his restraints, tugging desperately, trying to get away.

Someone laughed behind him, and Jason froze. It wasn’t the same laugh, it wasn’t the laugh that haunted his nightmares, but it was still heart stopping in it’s own right.

 _He wasn’t in a warehouse in Ethiopia_. Jason reminded himself. Jason seemed to be in a basement of some building, dank and moldy. Not in Ethiopia.

“You don’t seem like a member of the League.” A voice said.

Jason tried desperately to look over his shoulder and see his kidnapper, but the man stood in his blindspot. 

“Now, I want you to tell me everything you can about the League.” The man snarled. Jason would never betray the league, no matter how much he hated it, Talia and Damian were both there. And Jason didn’t know what information these people might need to snuff them out, so he would give them nothing.

“Fuck you!” Jason shouted. 

Not for the first time Jason wished that Bruce had taught him better. When he was Robin, Bruce had always said that if he were tortured he was just to give the information freely. But Talia had told both her and Damian that if you were being tortured the person only needed you alive until they got the information. She promised that if either of them were taken she would come for them, but they couldn’t give any information until that happened. So Jason bit his tongue.

The kidnapper stepped into his view. The guy wore a mask the covered everything but his steely blue eyes. It was a good sign, he was wearing a mask, because they expected to release Jason in the future. If they were going to kill him, they wouldn’t bother with concealing their identity.

His kidnapper snarled, and jabbed a thumb into the wound on Jason’s shoulder. Jason screamed, his vision turning white on the edges. 

“Let’s try that again,” The kidnapper smirked, “Tell me what you know about the league.”

Jason didn’t bother to respond.

The kidnapper just laughed, like this was idea of fun. Who knew, maybe it was.

The man grabbed a blow torch, it was small and hand held. It clicked to life with a hiss, Jason stared at the flame that was so hot it was white, with blue around its edges. The man’s eyes crinkled, like he was smiling under his black mask.

“Come on, tell me something.” The man said, bringing the torch closer to Jason’s bare foot.

“Something.” Jason gritted out, feeling the heat in near his foot, not yet feeling the pain, “The Gotham Knights have sucked for the past ten years, but I think they are making a comeback.”

This pissed his kidnapper off, the blow torch was applied to the top of his foot in a quick movement. At first Jason didn’t feel it, he only smelt it. It smelled like bacon, sounded like bacon too, sizzling and popping.

Then he felt the explosion of pain. 

“Something I can use.” The kidnapper gritted out, jerking the blow torch away.

Jason’s breath came out heavy and staggered. Tears pricked his eyes, and he remembered Joker’s torture before. His mind taking him back.

There was a crack, a back handed slap across his face, that brought him back to the present. His kidnapper was standing above him, his eyes harsh.

“Tell me about the Al Ghul’s.” The man said.

Jason focused on his breathing instead of on his words. Even as the blow torch came back out, even as his flesh bubbled. He said nothing, only counted his breathing.

For three days Jason remained in the room, getting asked questions. Some of the times he would snark back something witty or antagonistic, most of the time he just focused on his breathing. He felt fifteen again, waiting and praying for someone to save him. 

He gave up the hope that Talia would appear, just like he had given up hope that Bruce would save him three years ago, when the door behind him burst open.

Jason kept his head bowed, listened to his breathing.

“Release him at once.” 

Jason’s head cracked up, because that was Talia’s voice. She sounded deadly, like a viper poised to strike.

His kidnapper said nothing, but his eyes widened, and he dropped the pliers that were in his hand. He looked afraid.

 _Good, you should be scared_. A dark voice in his mind said, the voice sounding suspiciously like the Pit Madness, but Jason didn’t care.

“I said.” Talia spoke again, her voice darker, “Release him.”

The man pulled his mask down, revealing his entire face. It was the face of an older man, a man that looked kind, like somebody’s grandfather. He didn’t look like a torturer. But Jason knew better now, even those who look innocent can be monsters.

“Mistress Al Ghul.” The man tried, backing up, “I was under orders-”

Jason fought against his restraints, blinded by rage. 

“I know what my father ordered, but I have come to put a stop to it. Either release him or taste my sword.” Talia growled.

The man clearly took too long to make his choice, because Talia suddenly sliced the man’s throat, hot blood sprayed across Jason’s face as the body fell. 

And then Talia was kneeling before him, her eyes wide as she catalogued each wound on his body. There were many: burned feet, broken fingers, broken wrist, removed fingernails, long lacerations on his chest and legs. 

“Oh my phoenix, I am so sorry.” Talia whispered, as she cut away the ropes that bound him to a chair. “I have been searching for you since I discovered my father had you taken away.”

“Why?” Jason asked, his voice hoarse from screaming and shouting, “Why did they do this to me?”

Talia stopped cutting at the ropes for a moment, and put a warm gentle hand on Jason’s cheek. Jason didn’t even have the energy to pull away from the touch, “My father is a paranoid man. He wanted to test your loyalty.”

Jason bit his lip.

This, all of this had been a test?

Jason wished he hadn’t ever come back to life. If he was still dead, then he wouldn’t have experienced any of this pain.

“Where’s Damian?” Jason finally asked.

“He is securing the perimeter. I didn’t want him to meet the men who were actively hurting you.” Talia whispered her voice regaining it’s hard edge, “It seems you and I both don’t want him to become a murderer.”

Jason nodded once, and then the restraints fell away. Jason sagged into Talia’s arms, like a marionette puppet cut from it’s strings.

She dragged Jason through an abandoned building, dead bodies strewing the halls. Talia didn’t even look at them, stepping over each corpse with mild disinterest, but Jason saw each one. They had been an obstacle keeping Jason from Talia, one that Talia hadn’t appreciated.

Outside Damian was pacing next to restrained and unconscious guards, he looked nervous, but the tension in his shoulders released when he saw Jason.

Damian ran up to his brother, throwing his arms around the older boy in a painful hug, but Jason didn’t mind.

“You are never allowed to be kidnapped again.” Damian said furiously, pressing his head into Jason’s side.

“I promise squirt.” Jason laughed solemnly.

Over Damian’s head Talia looked solemn, “I too promise, that you will never be taken from me again.”

***

For the first week after his return to the compound, Jason found himself in physical contact with the Al Ghul’s at all times. Talia hugged him tightly before she left for her daily duties, and threw a relaxed arm over his shoulder when they had free time. Damian was more obvious about his touch, snuggling up to Jason at nights, or laying across Jason’s legs while reading a book.

Jason couldn’t find it in himself to mind, because when they weren’t there grounding him to the present, Jason slipped back to the warehouse in Ethiopia with an echoing laughter, or to the dank basement that was just a stupid test. 

Slowly Jason was able to spend time away from his family (yes he realized that he now saw Damian and Talia as family, but he refused to admit it out loud just yet. Because his families were often ripped away from him quickly and unexpectedly). He returned to his lessons with his teacher, the woman seemed angry about his absence, and Jason couldn’t tell if she was angry with him for the kidnapping or at the kidnappers. Either way his teacher had told Jason to call her Najwa.

Jason had full run of the compound, he would walk the halls, top to bottom. He found every entrance exit, weakness in the walls. He catalogued it all and put it away for future use. Usually Damian would find a way to follow him, usually as a shadow and Jason would pretend not to see the boy.

The compound was far bigger than Jason originally thought, he had lived there for a while but never really looked around. There were many barracks, training rooms and dungeons, all predictable. Less predictable was the gardens, and the large sitting room filled with paintings of beautiful landscapes.

However Jason found that he liked the giant kitchen the best. During the day, when the servants and cooks weren’t preparing the meals, Jason would be allowed to use the kitchen’s to his heart’s content, Damian would often trail behind him (Damian claimed it was just coincidence), Jason would make dishes, using recipes from memory. It reminded him of mornings with Alfred, a soft warm memory of his time in Gotham, one of the very few that he had. Damian was his taste tester, often he would complain that the food was too bland, and would bat Jason’s hands away, tipping in various spices. Damian’s concoctions tasted terrible, but Damian would still smugly proclaim himself the master chef.

Time moved quickly, and by Damian’s sixth birthday Jason had mastered the use of a gun, even while injured, as well as a katana.

It was a good thing too, because Damian’s birthday came with the return of Ra’s al Ghul. The Demon Head came with a prisoner of war in shackles. The man was shackled to the throne room’s floor the night before Damian’s birthday.

“Ahki, what do I do?” Damian asked that night, tears in his wide blue eyes, “Murder kills the murderer too. I don’t want to die!”

Damian hugged Jason tightly, and Talia knelt next to the two boys, sweeping them up in her arms. Damian cried all night, terrified of losing a bit of his soul, and Jason’s heart broke, because it was his fault. If Jason had just stayed out of it, Damian would never be so afraid of killing.

“We’ll figure it out Damian.” Jason promised, whispering into Damian’s hair. “You won’t have to do anything, I promise.”

The next morning, when Damian was brought before his grandfather to kill his first person, Jason pretended to go mad. He screamed, and he slashed the prisoner’s throat before Damian could. 

“Take the prince somewhere safe.” Ra’s instructed his voice cold. No sooner than Damian was taken away, eyes wide, were both of Jason’s arms seized.

“Daughter, this is your pet.” Ra’s spoke clearly, and Talia stood tall but disappointed, “You will flog him.”

It was only because Jason was so attuned to Talia that he noticed the way she shifted. Jason could see that she didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to raise a hand to Jason, especially not since he was still recovering to being kidnapped.

But Jason snarled, “Do it.”

He was chained to a large post, his shirt ripped away. He heard the whip put into Talia’s hand, but didn’t see it. He smelt the leather and copper of the well-used weapon.

“How many lashes?” Talia asked tightly.

“Twenty.” Ra’s said, “And if you go easy on the boy, I will double the punishment.”

Jason knew this punishment was as much for Talia as it was for Jason. The message was clear, _keep your pet in line or he will be put down._

Jason closed his eyes as he felt the first whip, the only warning he got was the snap of the whip. 

It hurt, like a stab of ice on his back, fast and hard. He breathed through it, counting each lash keeping his mouth closed. To scream was to show weakness, and Jason Todd wasn’t weak, he survived three days of torture he could survive twenty lashes.

By the end his flesh was mangled and falling away in places. His back bright crimson sticky with hot blood.

Talia left him chained to the column, it was a safety precaution Jason knew. If she pretended that she didn’t care for him, Ra’s wouldn’t kill Jason. Still he wished Talia had stayed, wished she would be with him.

Jason was taken back to the Al Ghul’s room. Damian was already in the room, salve ready in his hands. His face was set in stone.

The guard left, and Damian came to sit next to Jason, applying the salve with uncharacteristically gentle hands.

“You fool.” Damian sniffed.

“I told you that I wouldn’t let you kill someone.” Jason slurred, wanting to sleep for the rest of his life.

“So it is better for you to be injured?” Damian shouted in Jason’s ear, making him wince, which in turn caused a spasm of pain to run through his entire body.

“Yes Dami.” Jason spoke slowly, so his words couldn’t be misunderstood, “I would take a thousand lashes so that you would be safe. That’s what big brothers do.”

Unbidden an image of Dick came to mind. Dick hadn’t been that type of brother, he had pushed Jason away, had poked at his insecurities. In the end Dick hadn’t done anything for Jason, he certainly wouldn’t take a single lash for Jason.

But Jason didn’t want to be like Dick, he never had. He wanted to be better than Dick. Better as Robin. Better in school. And now better as being a big brother.

“TT.” Damian huffed, but said nothing more as he applied the salve.

Damian fell asleep early, curled next to Jason’s cot on the floor. Jason tried to sleep, but everytime he felt unconsciousness come to claim him, his body would flair up in pain again, waking Jason completely. Which was why Jason heard Talia slide open the door to the room.

“Tals.” Jason whispered clumsily, trying to keep Damian asleep.

Talia turned to look at Jason with soft eyes. She sat next to him, but refused to touch him, even when Jason reached an arm out for her.

“My phoenix, I hurt you.” Talia whispered. “I hurt you.”

“You did what you had to.” Jason argued.

“No, I should have protected you.” Talia argued, shaking her head. “I should’ve done better.”

“Talia, I am not upset you did it. We both protected Damian, that’s what’s important.”

Talia actually looked appalled, which sent Jason through a loop. He figured that protecting Damian was the most important thing. Period. But Talia looked enraged, her green eyes flashing with something that looked suspiciously like Pit Madness.

“You are both important.” Talia whispered, as if trying to get Jason to see an all encompassing truth, “And we need to protect each other. All three of us.”

Talia took Jason’s hand, that was still outstretched, and kissed his knuckles softly. Jason fell asleep, finally, surrounded by the two most important people in his life.

Ra’s had to leave early the next morning, so Damian was tasked with killing his first person in front of only his mother. Ra’s didn’t want a repeat of Jason’s outburst, so all visitors were banned. Damian and Talia returned, Damian had blood on his hands, but Talia had delivered the killing blow. At least Jason had done something right.

***

If Jason thought he wasn’t let out of his family’s sight after he had been kidnapped, he had no idea of what would come after getting himself flogged. Talia wouldn’t let him leave the room for two weeks, and Damian would sit next to him each night, applying healing salves to his back.

The only thing that made his isolation bearable was the books that Talia brought to him. She snuck him paperback copies of novels like Dracula and Frankenstein, which Jason would read to Damian. Damian called them frivolous fantasies, but he hung off each word as Jason read.

Jason’s birthday came and went without incident, Damian had given him a new book, stolen from another league member. It was a book of prayers so Jason made Damian return it.

“I think I can leave the room Tals.” Jason complained, having finished the book he was reading. He was bored of his katas, of meditating, at this point sleep was even boring.

“Not until you can prove yourself not to be self-destructive and self-sacrificing.” Talia replied shortly, not looking up from her laptop.

“Ugh fine _mom_.” Jason said. He meant it as a joke, because she was being over protective, and annoying. The type of mom Jason saw on television, not the type of mother he knew. But as soon the words came out of his mouth there was a shift in the air, Damian stopped from his own kata to stare at Jason, and Talia slowly closed her laptop.

Jason’s face burned with embarrassment, and he waited for Talia to patiently explain in her honey sweet voice that she was not his mother. She would tell him never to refer to her as that again, Jason just knew it.

But Jason was surprised when a large smile split across Talia’s face, “maybe one trip around the grounds wouldn’t hurt.”

The world seemed to slide in place for Jason, this was his family. Talia was his new mother, and she wasn’t like Catherine nor was she like Sheila. She was a mother who loved Jason for him, not for what he could offer them. Talia was not perfect by any means, and she had hurt him, would probably hurt him again, but Jason was proud to call her mom. 

And Damian, the kid was a brat, an annoying pain in his ass who thought he was better than Jason in every way, but he was the most important thing in Jason’s life. Jason hadn’t been lying when he said he would take a thousand lashes for the kid.

Jason realized that he was at home in the league of assassins, and he liked it. He wanted to be here, to stay here forever. 

Belatedly he smiled at how much that would probably piss Bruce off.


	3. Year Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey my friends, there is a bit of dubious consent in this chapter. Basically Jason sleeps with someone under false pretenses. Just alittle FYI.
> 
> Anyway onto the pain and angst.

Ra’s al Ghul was spending more time at the compound. Whether it was to check up on Talia and her attachment to her pet, or to over see Damian’s training Jason didn’t know. Either way, his presence made Jason’s skin crawl.

Jason and Najwa were training, their swords clanging in a flurry of metal when the demon head came to the room. Immediately both stopped their training, and dropped to their knees. Jason hated bowing to this man, because it felt like he was admitting something, but when with Najwa he followed her lead. 

“Najwa.” Ra’s said, completely ignoring Jason, “Do you think your pupil is ready for his first mission.”

Najwa spared a side-eyed glance a Jason before she nodded.

“Good. Jason you leave immediately, you will be briefed on the plane.”

Jason wanted to argue, he wanted to tell Talia and Damian where he was going, but he knew it was a test. Ra’s saw how close Jason was growing with his family, and he wanted to test if the boy was more loyal to himself or his daughter. And even though Jason knew that he would betray Ra’s in a heart beat if Talia asked him to, he couldn’t go against the demon’s head just yet.

So Jason climbed aboard the plane and was given the target, a rich business mogul from Paris.

A glossy photo was pushed into Jason’s hands of a handsome man with a wide smile a mop of dark wavy hair and sky blue eyes. An older man, probably late thirties to early forties, if the touch of grey in his temples had any indication. It wasn’t a coincidence that the man had a passing resemblance to Bruce Wayne, everything Ra’s did was a test. This kill was no different.

Still, Jason looked down at the smile on this man’s face, bright and happy, and felt his teeth grind. He was to murder a man whose only crime was to support a political party different from the one Ra’s wanted.

“After you kill Maurice Caron you will call on this phone.” A league member instructed, giving Jason a burner phone with only one number programed in it, “You will stay in the Hotel _le Bristol Paris_.”

When the plane landed, it only stayed long enough for Jason to disembark before it was flying up again, leaving Jason alone in Paris.

Paris had always been on his list of places he wanted to visit. When he was a street kid with no hope of leaving Gotham he had dreamed of seeing the city lights, of walking the same streets that the great American writers had. Back then he knew it was a dream that could never be. But when Bruce Wayne had taken him in, the dream had seemed a little closer to reality. Then he died.

Now he was traveling the city of his dreams for the League of Assassins. 

He walked the streets from the private airport on the outskirts of Paris to the center of the city. When he arrived to _le Bristol_ he was sure he had come to the wrong place. The hotel was grand, marble walls climbing eight stories, built with the gothic architecture flair. It was in the part of town, surrounded by expensive stores and uppity people. There was no way Ra’s would allow Jason to stay in a place like this.

But Jason entered anyway, used the fake name and IDs he had been given, and the bellhop showed Jason to a pent house suite that over looked the hotel’s courtyard. 

Jason stretched across the bed, soaking in the feeling of Egyptian silk on his skin, and opened the files he had been given.

When he thought of assassins Jason had thought his life would at least be interesting and fast-paced. What he hadn’t realized was the League was tedious. There were pages upon pages of Maurice Caron’s movements, where he liked to go and what he liked to do.

Jason poured over every page carefully, he didn’t want to know what would become of him if he were to fail Ra’s assignment.

There were a few openings to reach Maurice, the man was rich and paranoid, so he brought body guards with him wherever he went. The only time Maurice appeared to be completely alone was when he retired to his room at night, even then he had three body guards who stayed in the man's apartment, the three taking shifts of sleeping in the guest room while the other two remained awake, posted outside his room.

Clearly, Maurice Coran was into something other than his squeaky public record showed, no one had that much security for only being rich.

Jason read over the tabloids, it wasn’t the most credible source of news coverage, he knew that first hand, but it did provide one key detail. Maurice was interested in younger men, men with a similar complexion and build to Jason, and had recently broken-up with his boyfriend.

There was a benefit gala the next night, and Jason could find an invite, leave with the man, take him to bed before killing him. Sneaking out after dark with the body guards thinking it was a one night stand.

The thought made Jason queasy. He didn’t want to seduce and kill this man, he didn’t want to kill in general.

Briefly, Jason considered running away, going to Gotham and getting Bruce’s help. But the thought was immediately dismissed. Not only had Bruce replaced him, but if he left the mission his chances of seeing Damian and Talia again were non-existent. That wasn’t something Jason was willing to risk.

So he steeled himself for the mission. 

All night Jason worked to forge the gala invitation. The next morning on little sleep he went down to one of the fancy stores to get a suit for tonight.

When he came in the store and older gentleman looked at Jason warily, “How can I help you sir?” the man asked in French.

“I need a suit, the more expensive the better.” Jason replied, his French too impeccable. Jason wore a shit-eating grin, looking up and down at the suits that were on display. To him they all looked relatively the same, but he knew they were expensive as shit. If Ra’s was making him kill tonight, Jason would at least charge him a buttload of money to look fine as hell.

The gentleman grinned at the prospect of making a large commission and ushered Jason into a small fitting room to be measured. 

Jason was then stuffed into one ridiculously overpriced suit after another until the gentleman decided he was wearing the perfect suit.

Now Jason Todd knows he is handsome, he has a strong jaw-line and clearly works out, but the suit made him look damn good. It was the deepest black Jason had ever seen, and was tailored to fit him like a glove.

“Now this suit is 5,800 Euro.” The man said, so Jason immediately handed over the shiny black card that the League had provided him.

Jason had a couple of hours to kill before he had to return to the hotel and get ready, so he walked the Paris streets, pretending he was just Jason Todd, not an assassin, not an undead boy, just a random seventeen year old who could blend into the crowd.

He found himself walking towards the tourist traps, looking at the cheap souvenirs for sale. A Parisian cook-book caught his eye, he wondered how Damian would react to the new foods if Jason brought them home. Damian so hated bland food, he wondered if this would have enough flavor to appease the kid.

Without thinking, Jason bought the book with a few bills, then he hugged it to his chest, like someone would take it away from him. 

He went back to the hotel quickly after that, even though he didn’t need to. 

Jason dressed in his suit, looking himself up and down. The clothes artfully hid all of his scars from prying eyes, making him look like a normal seventeen year olf kid. If only he had time to die the shock of white hair away, it was recognizable, and assassins should be anything but.

The gala was in full swing when Jason arrived with his fake invite, people mingling and dancing around the room. Immediately Jason’s eyes found Maurice, the man stood in the center of the room, like a sun, people coming in and out of his orbit. Maurice held a glass that was almost empty, so Jason made his way to the bar, and waited.

The room brought back memories of Bruce. How the man had shifted from his father figure to the happy-go-lucky billionaire persona. How Bruce would whisper jokes in his ears during the stuffy parties that used to send Jason into peels of laughter. Jason shook the thoughts away, he needed a clear head.

Not ten minutes later did Maurice come over to the bar, asking for a refill. 

“A whiskey sour please.” Maurice said, his rumbled deep in his chest.

“Hmm.” Jason mused, just loud enough to ensure Maurice would hear him, “That sounds good, I’ll try one too.”

Maurice looked at Jason, blue eyes looking him up and down before the man smiled and came closer, “Now I normally know everyone at these get-togethers, but I unfortunately haven’t had the pleasure.”

Jason tilted his head, playing coy, “Well that should be rectified, shouldn’t it?”

Maurice laughed easily, the man was putty in Jason’s hands. Maybe because Maurice thought he was the one in charge, thought he was playing Jason. It was almost too easy to get the older man to leave the party early and take Jason to his penthouse. 

Jason pretended to blush at the bodyguards situating themselves outside Maurice’s bedroom, “Are they going to listen in?” Jason asked.

Maurice had waved them back, the body guards complied and went to the sofa instead, turning on the news. Jason smiled at this, easier for the kill.

Jason tried to ignore how his stomach tightened as the door to Maurice’s bedroom opened. He tried not to think about the heat pooling between his legs as Maurice slid wet kisses down his neck. 

_This is a job_. Jason reminded himself.

And if Jason were more professional, he wouldn’t have gone as far as he did, he wouldn't have allowed the man to strip him of his clothes, wouldn’t have allowed the wet kisses to progress lower and lower. Wouldn’t have rutted against the man in a desperate need for friction and release.

But it was still a job, so Jason reached out, his hand on Maurice’s throat. At first Maurice had smiled, thinking it was a sexual game, then his eyes widened and bugged, he tried to slap Jason’s hands away. It took him two minutes of flailing about for the man to die, and Jason stayed in the room for ten minutes after.

When he left, pretending to sheepishly climb from a one night stands bed, Jason felt sick to his stomach.

He kept his cover of a young man doing the walk of shame until he was safely in his hotel room. Then he called the number in the phone.

“It’s done.” Jason said darkly into the phone.

“Good. Extraction is at 0500 hours, be at the air strip.” 

Then there was a dial tone.

Jason had five long hours to spend by himself in the hotel room, and so he did something stupid. He knew it was stupid, but he didn’t care.

He used a hotel computer and searched BRUCE WAYNE. Thousands of pages were found in a matter of seconds, but the one Jason clicked on was entitled **Bruce Wayne’s New Son: Timothy Drake.**

For a while Jason just stared at the picture of Tim Drake and Bruce Wayne. Bruce was smiling, but the fake smile, the Brucie smile, his hand clapped onto Tim’s shoulder. Tim was smiling too, it was more shy and reserved, but his smile was genuine. Jason’s hands shook, this was the kid to replace him.

The article said Tim was from a wealthy family. Jason could read between the lines, Tim already knew the drill, already knew how to live the double life. Much better than some hoodrat from Crime Alley.

Bruce hadn’t just replaced Jason, he had upgraded.

Jason’s mind went blank, he wanted to kill his replacement. No, he wanted to keep his replacement from ending up like he did. No, he never wanted to see the kid that replaced him.

Jason let out a frustrated shout, throwing his duffle bag over his shoulder and heading to the airstrip four hours earlier. Trying to walk off the whispers of green clawing at his mind.

***

“Where did you go?”

It was the first thing Jason heard when he returned to Nanda Parbat. Exhausted from nearly seventy-two hours of no sleep and the time change, Jason simply blinked at Talia for a moment, not even understanding the question.

“Mission.” Jason finally said, falling face first into his cot dramatically. Talia sighed and rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything about it.

It felt like Jason barley closed his eyes when Damian came into the room with a huff, slamming the door with a resounding clang!

“Shit kid!” Jason awoke suddenly, “Sleeping here.”

Damian wasn’t listening to Jason’s protests however, instead the kid was pacing the room, “This isn’t something she can keep from me, I have a right to know do I not?”

“What’s the answer that lets me to go back to sleep?”

“I mean it is my right to ask about my father. If I am to be a good ruler I must know my heritage on both sides.” Damian continued, throwing his hands up in frustration.

Jason realized he was not going to sleep any time soon, so he sat up in his cot, watching as Damian paced the room. Jason’s head felt like it was filled with cotton as he watched the boy, still sleep deprived from his mission.

“She said I can know more about my father when I best her at a duel.” Damian said.

“Then best her.” Jason supplied, clearly the wrong thing to say because Damian scowled furiously at him. Jason just shrugged, “Come on kid, you said you were the best, prove it.”

Jason didn’t say that he would find that hilarious, didn’t say that he knew his brother would get his ass kicked by his mother. Damian was glaring at Jason, his jaw set in a way that Jason recognized. Disappointed and exacerbated.

“Wouldn’t you want to know who your father is?” Damian asked harshly.

Jason leaned back thinking about it for a minute. His life would probably been much better if he had never met Willis Todd, he couldn’t even imagine the innate need to find his parentage. Jason had said almost two years ago, that family of choice was more important than family by blood, and he believed it.

“Wish I didn’t know my pops.” Jason finally said.

Damian opened his mouth and closed it again. He had nothing to say to that, there was nothing to saw.

The two were in an awkward silence for a few long seconds, so Jason sighed, heaving himself from the cot, “Since you woke me up you little brat, I guess I’ll get you the present I brought back from France.”

“Present?” Damian tilted his head to the side “Jason, I swear if you say your presence is my present again I will stab you.” 

It made Jason laugh, remembering Damian’s last birthday, after the whole debacle with his flogging, Jason had sleepily murmured that to Damian, and the kid would never let Jason live that down.

“No.” Jason said, sticking out his tongue at his brother, while looking through his duffel bag for the cook book. “Recipes from France, let’s see if your prissy prince butt can enjoy quality food.”

Damian rolled his eyes, but the two went to the kitchens and made buttery croissants. The bread was too flakey, and slightly burnt, but Damian smiled when he tried them. And Jason liked seeing the kid smile, so it turned out to be a good day.

Damian spent the better part of an hour flipping through the cookbook, his fingers tracing the small doodles on each page carefully. He would sometimes point to recipes and proclaim that they needed to try them. He also made sure Jason knew that he was a superior cook and could make anything better than his older brother could.

***

“I saw my replacement.” Jason said to Talia without prompting. Saying it was getting alarmingly easy, the fact that he was nothing to Bruce, something to be replaced so easily, didn’t send him into a stupor as it used to.

Talia and Jason both lounging in their room, Damian was away at a lesson. Jason was carefully cleaning his weapons, his movements methodical and practiced, Talia was typing away business expenditures on her laptop. The woman looked up from her reports, but didn’t say anything. Jason could feel her cat-like eyes on him as he went through the motions.

“In the news I mean, I read about him.” Jason amended, he didn’t know what he was saying, “Guess Bruce really upgraded, got him a rich boy this time, not some kid off the streets.”

“It wasn’t an upgrade.” Talia promised, shutting her computer, but Jason didn’t look up from his task. “There is no way to upgrade from Jason Peter Todd.”

“Damn right.” Jason spoke shakily, his voice thick with tears. He forced himself to laugh, but it came out unnatural, watery.

Talia came to sit beside him. There was an easy camaraderie between them now, Talia did not wait for permission to hug or touch Jason, and Jason no longer flinched at everything. Talia threw an arm around his shoulder, Jason let himself sink into it, dropping the guns onto the table.

“Oh my phoenix.” Talia cooed, kissing Jason’s temple lightly, “My beloved is a good man, and he tries to be a good father. Sometimes he fails, because fatherhood is difficult.”

Jason stiffened in her arms. He had heard Talia refer to Bruce as her beloved before, she knew Talia had a thing for him. But he never thought… It couldn’t be… 

The questions Damian had about his father, Talia’s general desire to keep the truth from him… 

“Talia,” Jason spoke slowly, so that his anger wouldn’t explode. But Talia felt it anyway, she was already shifted away from him, no longer hugging him. “Damian’s father, it’s Bruce isn’t it.”

Talia nodded once.

And Jason threw himself from his seat, anger turning his face red. Green tinted his eyes. Lips curled into a snarl. Talia had the audacity to look confused, as if she didn’t expect Jason’s outburst. 

“So what? You already had one of Bruce’s kids and you wanted another? Trying to collect a whole set or something?” Jason shouted, “Did you bring me back just to get to Bruce, just to win him over?”

Talia opened her mouth to say something. But Jason wasn’t done.

“I’m just something to get to Bruce aren’t I? Just another pawn in everyone's goddamned chess game.” Jason yelled, tears dripping down his chin, “You’ve never cared about me, just wanted to get back to your _beloved_.”

Talia stood, “Don’t you dare say that I ‘don’t care for you.’ I see you as a son Jason.”

She was just as angry as he was, but Talia had a quiet anger. Like an overcast day, clouds threatening to storm. But when her anger finally did come, it came with claps of thunder and sheets of rain.

“But you were using me.” It was an accusation, one dripping with venom. Clearly it landed, because Talia shifted, her muscles tightened, “You threw me into the Pit, you ripped me away from peace just for your own selfish desire to be with Bruce.”

“No, I saved you-”

“Saved me? I was in heaven Talia, I was happy! And you took that away from me!” Jason was shaking, his entire body spasming. He never talked of the darkness he experienced in death, never talked of how it was peaceful and ideal. And now it was all pouring out, all at once, “And you made me a monster, an assassin. Whose to say I will be allowed back if I die again? You didn’t save me, you doomed me for your own selfish gain.”

Talia didn’t say a word, just opened and closed her mouth. Her green eyes were cloudy with tears, but Jason didn’t care. He grabbed his duffle bag, and stormed to the mouth of the room. Jason had known Talia the better part of two years now, and this was the first time he saw her cry, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

“Don’t expect me back.” Jason threw over his shoulder, and he stormed to the room he had been staying in before. There was still blood on the walls, dries and flaking from his first months here. And he wasn’t suffering from Pit Madness now, but Jason did punch the wall. His hand didn’t hurt as much as his heart did.

Over the next few weeks Jason stayed as far away from the al Ghul’s as he could. He went to training with Najwa (who took one look at him and clucked her tongue) and went back to his room. He refused to linger in the halls, in fear that he would run into Talia.

After the first three days all of his belongings, the ones he left in Talia’s room, were neatly stacked outside his door. An assortment of weapons and books, infused with too many memories. Jason was almost petty enough to destroy the stuff, but instead he took the weapons into his room, and dropped the books off back where they came from.

Jason even volunteered for a mission. This one had no casualties, just to steal classified documents. It kept Jason from the compound for a month.

When Jason returned, his body exhausted from travel and brain tired of planning, he made his way to his own room. Almost passed out on his bed before he noticed a small boy sitting in the center of his room, on the cold concrete floor.

“What the fuck?” Jason asked.

Damian was sitting crossed legged in his room. Just staring at Jason, not saying a word.

“I was wondering.” Damian started diplomatically, “Why you haven’t been with your family.”

Jason cringed at the use of the word family. He wasn’t family, not to Talia any way. 

But Damian didn’t know what had happened, Damian wasn’t using Jason as a tool to get what he wanted in life, and it wasn’t fair that he was being punished along side his mother. In Damian’s perspective is probably seemed like his older brother just up and abandoned him.

Jason sighed, “I’ve been on a mission.”

“Yes for the last month, but there has been a month before that where you were avoiding us.” Damian retorted.

Jason cursed the kid for being so smart.

“I don’t know what you want me to say kid.” Jason finally admitted, throwing his hands up in defeat.

“I don’t want you to say anything. I want you to quit this foolishness and return to me at once.” 

Closing his eyes, Jason let out a long sigh. He didn’t know how to explain this (and leave it to Talia to make sure he was the one who had to do it) to a kid. 

“I can’t-” Jason started, but his voice caught in his throat.

“Is it something that I did?” Damian finally asked, his voice meek. Seeing the kid with a down turned gaze broke Jason’s heart, “If I wasn’t a good brother I promise to work harder. I will even ceede that you are good at cooking.”

Jason kelt down so that he was at eye level with Damian, and then pulled the kid into a deep hug. Damian buried his face in the crook of Jason’s neck, and Jason pretended not to notice the tears that wetted his shoulder.

“Nothing you do can stop me from being your brother.” Jason promised, “There are just some things that I need to work out with your mom before I can come back.”

"is it because I asked questions about my father? Because I don't care about my heritage if it means you are angry with me." Damian said, hitting the nail in the head. Jason couldn't help but flinch at his words, because ultimately, the kid was right, it was about Bruce.

But Jason shook his head, "It's got nothing to do with you kid. Me and Talia just have to figure some shit out."

Damian pulled himself back, his large hazel eyes looking into Jason’s. He searched for any sign of mistruth, and when he saw none, Damian sagged slightly with relief, “see that it is worked out soon.”

And with that Damian left the room.

***

Despite Damian ordering Jason to work it out with his mother, Jason spent a great deal of time far away from Talia. He took more missions, tried to get the ones that didn’t involve killing, but it didn’t really matter. If it came down to it, Jason would kill to save himself, to keep himself from dying (again).

Damian’s seventh birthday came slowly, and Jason made certain he was back at the compound for the kid’s birthday.

Damian had been training hard all day, learning how to defend against knives, when Jason stole him away.

“Ahki!” Damian said scandalized that Jason would dare disrupt his training, “I don’t have time for this.”

“I just came to give you your birthday present.” Jason smiled, and before Damian could say anything more Jason quipped, “And no it’s not my beautiful presence you little shit. Though that is a gift in of itself.”

Damian snorted in response, but Jason simply pushed a clumsily wrapped present into his hands. 

Damian unwrapped the present carefully, taking the same amount of care as someone would to disable a bomb. 

The gift was a simple sketchbook and a pencil case filled with nice pencils. Jason had noticed Damian’s long appreciative glances at the paintings on the walls, and figured the kid had to start somewhere.

Confused, Damian held the sketchbook up, flipping through the blank pages.

“It’s for you to draw.” Jason said rolling his eyes.

“Why would I draw anything?” Damian asked.

Jason groaned in response, the League had a strict ‘no having fun of any kind’ policy that drove him mad, especially since Damian took that rule so seriously. If there wasn’t a practical application to something, Damian wouldn’t participate.

“It’s good to have hobbies.” Jason said, pointing to the sketch book.

“But drawing serves me no purpose.” Damian said again, more stubbornly this time.

“Having fun is its own purpose Dumbass.” Jason laughed, ruffling the kid’s hair, “Go back to training and then draw me something pretty.”

Damian batted Jason’s hands away looking put out. But three days later he slid a sketch under Jason’s door. The sketch was of Talia’s room, the outlines were messy and there was no perspective, but Jason held the picture close to his chest. The next morning he put it in his to-go bag, so he would always have it on missions.

***

Jason’s birthday came with little fan fare. He was officially eighteen now, an adult according to the law. It was a strange arbitrary age, Jason felt no older, no wiser, he still felt like a kid.

Jason was practicing hand to hand combat with Najwa. Her strikes her quick and deadly as a viper, a hit to the throat, followed quickly by a knee up into the gut. But he was able to block, or return the hits in kind now. 

“Break.” Najwa said after an hour long training session. “Sit with me and drink some water.”

Jason did as he was told, despite the fact that this had never been offered to him before.

“Do you know who the Viper is child?” Najwa asked, after taking a long sip of water.

Jason shook his head, to which Najwa immediately cuffed him for. Cringing Jason amended, “No Ma’am.”

“You know I hate when you don’t speak. Speak your intentions with confidence.” Najwa clucked, “Viper is one of Ra’s is children.”

Najwa wasn’t looking at Jason as she spoke, her gaze was straight ahead. Jason furrowed his brow.

“I didn’t know Ra’s had other children.” Jason said finally, unsure of what else there was to say.

“That fucker has been around hundreds of years, you really think Talia was his first kid?” Najwa asked. Jason was no stranger to foul language, he heard it since he was a kid, he had even heard Najwa’s colorful langue. But to hear his teacher talk about the demon head so, was jarring. 

“No, Ra’s has had plenty of kids. Talia is the only one not to get on his bad side.” Najwa continued as if she hadn’t just called the leader of the League of Assassins a fucker. “But all of his kids have been trained, they are all pretty evenly matched. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Jason shook his head no, but quickly corrected himself, “No ma’am.”

Najwa sighed, shifting in her seat. The bottle of water was forgotten, and she turned to look Jason in the eyes. 

“Listen you dumb child, Talia is going to fight the Viper. It is Ra’s decree.” Najwa spoke slowly, as if she truly thought Jason to be stupid, “Talia is going to fight the Viper alone, and if she fails there will nobody to make certain Damian isn’t pulled astray by Ra’s.”

Jason opened his mouth, to say that Talia could beat any adversary. To ask why Najwa was telling him this. But what came out was, “Damian is loyal to the league.”

Najwa looked very tired in that moment, “Do I look like an idiot? I know you and Talia have been keeping the boy’s hands clean of blood. I respect it and i won’t tell a soul, but I am not as stupid as you give me credit for.”

“I still don’t know why your telling me this.” Jason finally said. 

“I am not telling you anything.” Najwa said nonsensically, “just like I am not telling you to go to Tibet and help your mother, because she might die without aid. I am most definitely not telling you that there is a jet fueled and loaded in the courtyard waiting your departure.”

Jason swallowed dryly. 

He was still angry with Talia, so angry for being lied to, but Najwa was right Jason couldn’t leave Talia to die. He definitely couldn’t leave Damian in the hands of Ra’s al Ghul. 

“Well then.” Jason said finally, “It appears I have a plane to catch.”

Najwa smiled tightly as Jason ran off to the plane. 

The trip took hours, and hours more were spent tracking Talia down. When he finally did find her, Talia was standing in the center of a large room, across from her way another woman. Jason assumed it was Talia’s sister, Viper.

The room was pretty well guarded, but there was a balcony area, with a single sniper stationed, his scope trained on Talia.

Jason crept towards the man quietly. As much as he wanted to attack the man who was threatening Talia, he kept himself in check. Moving too soon could distract Talia from fighting, or cause a fight to break out. Instead he crouched ready to attack the man at a moment’s notice.

He could hear Talia’s voice from down below, he hadn’t heard her honey sweet voice in a half a year, and it made his heart leap into his throat. Jason didn’t realize how much he missed Talia until this moment.

“You would stand against the League?” Talia asked.

“The League already stands against me.” The Viper responded. Her voice had the same texture of dripping honey, but there was a sharp undertone that made Jason uneasy.

“You could return, stop living in exile and embarrassment.” Talia suggest, her tone was bored.

“Die with honor or to live like this?” The Viper laughed, “I think I should just kill you, regain my title of heir. Our father always needs an heir.”

Jason tensed, ready to fly at the sniper, but the man didn’t move. 

“Killing me will not reinstate you Nyssa.” Talia said, “I have two sons.”

Jason knew she was referring to both Damian and himself, but he was still shocked that Talia still cared for him. Jason hadn’t seen her in so long, he assumed she had moved on from him. But Talia still considered him a son, even after Jason had screamed at her.

The Viper let loose a scream, the sniper moved to pull the trigger, and Jason lunged at the man. 

The shot went off, right next to Jason’s ear, he could hear it ringing loudly. Down below Viper and Talia were fighting too, Jason could hear their grunts.

The sniper tried to push Jason away from him, jabbing a thumb into Jason’s eye. It wasn’t enough to cause any damage, but it was enough to be uncomfortable.

The two grappled for a few minutes, until Jason was on top of the sniper, straddling the man’s waist. Without thinking Jason reached for the man’s rifle, and bashed the sniper’s head with the butt end. Then he did it again, and again.

Jason kept slamming the butt of the rifle into the man’s head, until the skull was caved in and blood coated Jason’s hands. He kept bashing.

It wasn’t until Talia’s hand reached out and touched his shoulder that Jason stopped.

The sight was unseemly, Jason stepped away quickly when his senses returned to him. The man’s face was no longer recognizable as human, it was just red blood and grey brain matter. Jason had done that, he done it with his two hands.

And he hadn’t done it because the Pit Madness called to him, no he mutilated this man because he had dared to harm Talia. Dared to hurt his _mom_.

“Jason?” Talia asked, she didn’t look at the body at Jason’s feet, she was looking at him with soft eyes. “What are you doing here my phoenix.” 

Jason spared a glance over the balcony to see the Viper in a pool of her own blood lying on the ground. Then he looked to Talia again, she looked slightly haunted, slightly hallow.

“My mom was in trouble.” Jason shrugged, “I thought you could use a hand.”

There was a tense smile, but it brightened Talia’s face.

“Can I hug you?” Talia asked suddenly. Jason wanted to say no, he was covered in blood and brain, but Talia looked so desperate to reach out for him, that Jason just nodded. Talia hugged him like the world was going to end, and Jason hugged her back like he was coming home from war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Najwa is my own OC, but God damn I love that woman! She is too fun to write.


	4. Year Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is somehow the shortest and most intense of the chapters.
> 
> TW: there is a scene with violent dissociation in this chapter (at least I am pretty sure it is dissociation). So stay safe my friends.

Training Damian was surprisingly easy, the kid absorbed new information like a sponge. And while Damian tried to insist that he was the best at absolutely everything, he actually took direction and criticism well.

It got to the point where Damian and Jason could spar easily, without Jason having to worry about the boy. Sure he still pulled his punches, but more and more often, he didn’t even need to.

Jason swung, his fist flying through the air, and Damian artfully blocked it.

Damian lunged at Jason, quick movements, he was trained well. Damian knew he was no match for Jason’s strength or experience, but Damian was much quicker than his older brother. Jason felt the hit to his gut with more intensity than he thought possible.

Jason whirled around, catching Damian’s proud smirk.

“Oh it’s on.” Jason declared with a dangerous smile.

Jason lunged at his brother, but Damian ducked out of his way.

“It wasn’t on before?” Damian teased.

The boy ran forward again, reaching out to hit Jason. But Jason took him by surprise, grabbing the kid’s arm and twisting it behind Damian’s back. 

This didn’t deter Damian though, he kicked back, with powerful strokes, hitting Jason’s shins. 

Jason did the only thing he could think of in the situation, he grabbed Damian’s side, still using his other hand to hold his arm behind his back. Jason then lifted Damian, clear over his head. The kid was small for seven years old, but was built like a wall, Jason’s arms ached only slightly under the pressure.

Damian was wiggling undignified above Jason, so Jason dropped him (just hard enough to stun him, but not hard enough to knock his breath away) onto the training mat.

Damian didn’t have a chance to say anything before Jason flopped down on top of Damian, his back lying over Damian’s chest.

“Get off of me at once, your fat body is crushing me!” Damian shouted, trying to move his arms, which were of course pinned under Jason’s weight.

Across the room, the double doors opened. Talia came into the training room, gave one look at her boys, and rolled her eyes. But she didn’t say anything, so Jason grinned.

“Sorry little man, gravity has mysteriously increased on me.” Jason laughed, quoting Lilo and Stitch. 

“That is not possible.” Damian shot back.

“Talia, tell Dami that gravity totally increased on me and I can’t get up.” Jason called.

“Mother tell this imbecile to get off of me!”

Talia watched the entire exchange with an amused disinterest, before her gaze flicked down to her nails. She was like a tiger examining her claws before striking. The only question was: Whose the prey?

Finally Talia sighed, very dramatically and walked over to the pair, “Oh dear.”

Her face was marred by a frown, but Jason saw the flicker in her eyes.

“What? What is it Mother?” Damian asked.

And then Talia fell so that she was lying diagonally over Jason as well. Damian left out a huffed breath, but Jason was laughing too hard to hear anything.

“It seems gravity has increased on me as well.”

Jason held that day in a special light, it was one of the best days of his life. When he was cold or alone on a mission, he would take that memory out, and play it over and over in his mind’s eye.

He tried to remember Talia’s laugh, and Damian’s annoyed noises. Tried to reconstruct the scene when he was away. Because the missions he was being sent on kept getting longer, and Talia’s eyes kept shifting over her shoulder. Because Ra’s al Ghul had decided after seven years as only an occasional figure in Damian’s life, he wanted to be there all the time.

***

Damian has taken to leaving drawings in Jason’s to-go bag. When Jason is on a mission he opens his bags to find new works of art to pour over. Most of them are sketches from real life, Damian hardly implores his imagination in drawings, and an increasing number are of birds that can be seen from his windows.

Damian is getting really good, the drawings don’t look like typical seven year olds cartoonish sloppy outlines. These sketches are crude, but it is immediately clear what they are drawings of.

When Jason returns home from the missions, his first order of business is always to seek out Damian, and thank him for the drawings.

The end of this mission should be no different, except when Jason goes to find Damian, he finds the boy meditating in the middle of the room. It’s not unusual for Damian to meditate, the kid does it a lot and actually seems to enjoy it, what is odd is the large white cast on Damian’s right hand.

“Shit Dami.” Jason says by way of greeting, “What happened to you?”

Damian cracks his eyes open and something that is almost a smile cracks over his face, but Jason’s focus is stuck on Damian’s hand. It is ridiculous to be angry over an injury, Damian is training to be an assassin, injuries do happen. But something about the cast makes Jason’s blood boil.

Damian stood, he had ‘outgrown’ hugging, and instead offered Jason a handshake, using his left hand. Jason didn’t take it.

“What happened?” He asked coldly.

Damian’s gaze flicked around the room, he looked guilty. Somehow it made Jason feel worse, like there was lead in his stomach, and a knot in his throat. If Damian had been injured in training, he would have said, whatever happened it wasn’t good.

Jason’s vision was starting to be tinted green, and he counted his breaths. Three in and three out.

Damian looked down at his hand, “I was caught drawing.” 

Jason’s world fell away, but Damian didn’t care, he kept speaking.

“Grandfather wants me to spend less time with useless hobbies and focus on my true training. He broke my fingers to keep me from picking up a pencil.” Damian said.

Jason might be sick. He couldn’t imagine anyone breaking a boys fingers (how many had Ra’s even broken? Knowing that man, it was all of them) because he was drawing. It wasn’t harmful to anyone. And worst of all Jason had been the one to insist that Damian pick up the habit, even when Damian said he hadn’t wanted to. Damian’s injury was his fault.

“It’s good though.” Damian added quickly. His voice teetered on the edge of panic, as if he were holding on for dear life, “I needed to work on my left-handed sword skills. I shall have perfected it once this cast is removed.”

And that was worse, Damian defending his grandfather, seeing this injury as a lesson. Jason bit his lip.

“You know where Ma’ is?” Jason asked, his voice tight.

Damian eyes widened, the three had agreed that they were family. But still Jason rarely called Talia his mother, when he did it was usually in moments of serious import. 

Jason didn’t really hear Damian’s answer, but Jason stalked off to find Talia, who was practicing fighting. She was kicking at a practice dummy, her hair tied up and sweat plastered to her face. 

“Talia.” Jason said, Talia turned around to look at her son. She smiled vaguely, before seeing the hard set of Jason’s face, and looked just as serious. “Listen, we need to talk about Damian.”

Talia’s eyes flicked around the room, “Shall we practice your endurance?”

Jason nodded once, and the two took off. They ran from the compound, sprinting across the craggy dunes of Nanda Parbat. They ran for thirty minutes, so fast that Jason’s chest ached slightly. Talia didn’t seem out of breath when they stopped, sometimes Jason wondered if Talia was even a real person, she could easily be a robot.

“We need to do something.” Jason said, there was no preamble, he just launched into the conversation. All he could see was Damian with a cast on his arm, he could see his little brother injured at the hands of someone the kid trusted.

“Jason.” Talia said tightly.

But Jason wasn’t done, “Ra’s is a monster, he hurt Damian for drawing. The kid is seven. We can’t just let it happen! We have to protect Damian, he’s just a kid.”

“You think I don’t know this!” Talia shouted, her voice icy, it made Jason almost step back, “Trust me, I understand. I want Damian to be safe, I am his mother and I feel all of his injuries as if they are my own. I feel yours too. But we need to be careful, something is coming, something that is making even Ra’s worried.”

Few things scared Jason anymore, he had spent three and a half years in the League, he had seen blood gore and torture, but if the demon head was scared, Jason was as well. He felt a sweat break over his brow, unrelated to the boiling heat beating down.

“What is it?” Jason asked.

Talia looked over her shoulder, scared in a way that Jason wasn’t used to. 

“I don’t know. My father hasn’t spoken to me, he hasn’t spoken to anyone. He is growing more paranoid.” Talia confided, “But if we are to be free we must play the long game. We must pretend to be completely loyal, or we will not survive this.”

Jason had never heard Talia want to leave her home in the League. He knew she was fiercely loyal, loyal the the point where she still loved her father even though he was terrible to her, if she wanted to leave something truly terrible was coming. Jason bit his lip, he didn’t like it. But he nodded anyway.

***

Jason was pretending to be the perfect soldier for weeks, Najwa was gone on a mission, so Jason was focusing on training Damian, careful to avoid the kid’s injured arm. 

The two were in the middle of training with kukri swords, practicing with balancing the weapon when Ra’s stormed in his black cape billowing behind him like a storm cloud. Talia was behind her father, eyes wide. She kept looking from her father to Jason.

Jason immediately fell to his knee, bowing below the demon head. Damian didn’t have to bow to his grandfather, and the younger two al Ghul’s often said that Jason shouldn’t have to bow either, they were family. Jason could feel Damian’s eyes on his back, because Jason had often and vocally refused to bow to Ra’s. But that was before he was supposed to play a part.

Ra’s stopped in front of Jason. The Ra’s shiny boots appeared in Jason’s line of sight. 

“Najwa has fallen.” Ra’s said, as if it was Jason’s fault.

Despite himself, Jason looked up at Ra’s. He really liked Najwa, she was a harsh teacher that believed in violence and punishment as teachers. Still Najwa taught him well, and she was the reason that Jason had forgiven Talia. She was the reason he was even here, and now she was dead.

Ra’s eyes were toxic green, filled with anger. Jason recognized it, Pit Madness.

“She was a good soldier.” Jason finally gritted out.

Talia was looking between Jason and her father. Something was wrong. 

“She was killed by the clown in Gotham.” Ra’s said darkly.

Jason sucked in a breath. It must be a different clown, maybe Harley or a new player. Because there was no way his murderer could still be alive. Bruce might not have cared for him, might have seen his a replaceable kid, but there was no way he would let that monster live after what happened. It just wasn’t possible.

But there was a look in Talia’s eyes, wide and scared, staring at Jason. Talia wouldn’t be so worried if it wasn’t _him_.

“What is odd, is that I didn’t send her on that mission.” Ra’s continued, ignoring the way everyone in the room was staring at him. There was anger in his face, twisting it so that he looked almost as demonic as his title suggested. “So either you sent her on a revenge mission, or she developed an attachment to you and decided to avenge you on her own accord.”

Jason’s entire world just stopped. 

It was _him_.

That monster was still breathing, still alive after he had killed Jason. And Bruce, that fucker, was allowing it. 

Jason knew now that he had meant nothing to Bruce, but he never thought that Bruce wouldn’t at least avenge him. He had hoped that the one thing that came from his death was the Joker would be killed as well. Bruce wasn’t supposed to let what happened to him happen to anyone else ever!

Green splashed over his vision, like blood stains.

Talia saw it, “Damian leave at once.”

If Jason were in more control he would have thanked her, because he never wanted Damian to see him like this. Damian was staring at Jason with wide confused eyes.

“You will stay Damian.” Ra’s commanded is voice icy, “You will see what your mother’s pet really is.”

Jason’s hands clenched into tight fists, his nails biting into the skin of his palms. The green was overwhelming, taking over everything. Jason heard maniacal laughter echoing in his mind. The faces in the room morphed, all twisting into visages of the clown.

Three Jokers stood above him, all of them looked exactly like the man who had murdered him. They stood at different heights, but they all laughed at him, the sound bouncing around the room.

Jason let out a scream.

He lunged at the largest clown before him. His mind was blank of everything expect the desire to maim, destroy and kill.

Jason attacked, the clown moved away easily, he hit Jason with a hard punch. Jason’s head cracked back, blood gushed from his nose. It made Jason more angry. 

His mind screamed for Jason to maim the monster who did this to him. It screamed for him to destroy that fucking monster. Begged him to kill the Joker, and make sure the monster never did this again.

Jason ran at the clown, kicking and swinging. His hits didn’t land, but the clowns did. The clown kept hitting him, until he fell to the ground in the center of the room.

When Jason sat up, his eyes focused on the shortest of the Jokers, this one was carrying a sword. He could hear the Joker’s laughter.

Jason jumped up, rushing towards the Joker. He had one thought: MAIM! DESTROY! KILL!

The Joker used mostly defensive maneuvers. Another Joker came to protect the smaller one, but Jason was snarling. He could destroy two Jokers. He had to!

From behind, Jason’s knees were kicked out, his arms held tightly behind him. Jason twisted to see the third Joker holding him tightly.

“Use your sword!” The joker holding him screamed, “Run him through!”

Jason snarled, but his mind wasn’t solely focused on bloodlust anymore. He felt a sense of terror, one that he had promised himself not to feel again. He was scared to die, scared to die and not find that warm comforting darkness again. He didn’t want to die again!

Jason tried to get out of the tallest Joker’s hold, but the man held him close and strong.

Jason blinked, his vision faltering, he saw the smallest Joker, the one with the sword, wearing a frown that belonged to Damian.

“No.” The Joker said, the one with Damian’s frown.

“No?” The one behind him asked.

“I will not harm my brother.”

Jason snarled, the Joker wasn’t his brother! The Joker didn’t deserve to wear Damian’s frown, the monster deserved to die.

“He attacked the Demon Head. He attacked you! You will kill him!” The Joker behind him yelled.

Jason’s body shook. He didn’t want to die again, he didn’t want to leave again.

The toxic green flooded his vision again, blood rushed in his ears. He could no longer hear the Joker’s conversations. He could only hear his mind scream at him, scream to MAIM DESTROY and KILL.

After a while Jason was being lead away, not killed. Jason fought against the hold, one of the Jokers tried to whisper into Jason’s ear, but Jason snarled, and tried to bite off the monster’s nose.

Jason was thrown into a cell, a cell that held three Jokers again. These ones at least were easier to kill than the other three. He bludgeoned each one ruthlessly. Their blood coated his skin, covered the ground, each of them blead toxic green.

Jason smiled at the sight, three dead Jokers sprawled on the ground. His mind still screamed, craved more carnage. 

MAIM! DESTROY! KILL!

He screamed, or maybe it was in his head. He wanted more, he wanted to whip away the scourge that was the Jokers. But there was no more. So instead he punched the wall. 

It felt good to hit something. It felt good to feel the fire of pain in his knuckles. So he punched the wall again.

And again.

And again.

He kept hitting the wall until he fell to the ground exhausted.

The next morning Jason awoke, the green whipped from his eyes. He was in a dungeon cell, he had fallen asleep in the blood of three of the prisoners. Both of his hands broken from punching the wall. His face ached, and he could feel the swelling.

Talia was sitting outside his cell, her shoulders were heavy. Her left eye was swollen and black, there was a bit of dried and flaking blood on her chin. She looked Jason up and down but didn’t say a word.

“What happened?” Jason asked.

Talia’s demeanor shifted, she stood up, coming to sit next to Jason. Her on one side of the bars, him on the other. Talia snaked on arm through the bars, touching Jason’s cheek, her eyes were sad.

“Pit madness.” Talia whispered.

Jason looked down at himself, his clothes were soaked completely with blood. The grey uniforms from the league and ugly russet color. 

“Did I do that to you?” Jason asked, reaching out carefully at Talia’s swollen eye. He didn’t touch the wound, his fingers stopping just short of grazing the skin.

“No my phoenix.” Talia said, moving to Jason’s fingers were pressed to her cheek, the contact made his broken knuckles scream, but he didn’t react, “You hurt no one who didn’t deserve it.”

Somehow Jason didn’t believe that, but he pretended. For his own sake and for Talia’s.

“Ra’s has said you must stay down here for a week, but I will come down here everyday. Damian will come too.” Talia promised.

“Don’t.” Jason said his voice choked, “Don’t let Damian see me like this.”

Talia’s face pinched, her jaw set. It was clear she didn’t like the idea of not allowing Damian to see him. But Jason couldn’t do it, couldn’t live with disappointing Damian. Couldn’t live with Damian seeing him like the monster he was. 

“Please Ma.” Jason begged. It was a low blow, Jason knew, calling Talia mom. When he did so, she became putty in Jason’s hands. She did whatever he wanted, usually with a soft distant smile.

This time Talia’s jaw tightened, but she sighed, “As you wish habibi. But Damian will not be happy about this.”

Jason knew, and he knew that Damian had seen the initial advent of his madness. But Damian didn’t deserve to see it’s aftermath.

Talia left him, left him in a bloody cell with three rotting corpses.

On the fourth day of Jason’s incarceration Damian appeared. The bodies were starting to smell, and Jason had piled them all up into one corner of the cell, used his shirt to sop up some of the blood. Leaving him shirtless, refusing to put back on the soiled garment.

Damian was standing outside the cell when he awoke.

“I told Talia not to let you come down here.” Jason groaned.

Damian stared at him, his hazel eyes harsh, “I am aware. I snuck down here.”

Jason nodded, his eyes flicked to the pile of bodies in the corner. The flies were buzzing around the bodies, beginning to eat at the gapping wounds. Damian was staring at him with harsh eyes. Jason shifted, he couldn’t stand Damian being disappointed in him.

“Why do you push me away?” Damian finally asked, “Everytime something happens you push me away.”

Of all the things for Damian to say, Jason didn’t expect that. He was expecting for the kid to be disgusted, to be angry at his brother’s lack of control, not at Jason’s tendency to self-isolate.

Jason thought of quipping, of giving Damian a sarcastic remark as an answer, but the kid looked so sad that Jason couldn’t manage to do it.

“I guess,” Jason said, tasting the words carefully, “I never had someone to talk with when I was a kid. And I am so used to it, that I forget that I’m not alone anymore.”

Damian nodded once, then he sat down cross legged in front of the cell, “You have a brother now. And just like you would take a thousand lashes for me, I would take a thousand for you.”

Jason balked at the idea of Damian ever taking an injury for him, but he didn’t say anything for a moment.

“You are the best brother I could ever have.” Jason finally said.

“Tt.” Damian huffed, “I am the only brother you have.”

And Jason didn’t even think about his answer, “Only good one. My other brother was a Dickhead.”

“Other brother?”

And Jason realized that he had never really told Damian about his family. The family they technically shared.

“Yeah. I had another brother before you.” Jason said, he wanted to give this to Damian, to give Damian more love. Because Damian deserved to be loved and cared for, deserved everything, and maybe giving him another brother, one less fucked up, would be exactly what he needed, “We fought a lot. He was the golden boy, and I always wanted to be better than him. Kind of like how you always want to be better than me. Only difference is, you actually are better, I never quite matched up to Dick.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Damian huffed, and Jason just smiled, “You are the second best, after me of course, this other brother is nothing compared to us.”

And Jason laughed, the sound made his chest hallow and his ribs ache, but he was laughing harder than he had in a while.

“You’re right shortstack. You’re number one, and I’m number two.”

Damian nodded before leaving. Jason expected that there wouldn’t be another visit for the duration of the week, but he was surprised that on the sixth day Damian returned again, this time with a book in hand. He read Jason _the Call of the Wild,_ and Jason smiled listening to his words.

***

Time seems to sludge by once Jason is released from the dungeons. He is not allowed on missions, two broken hands means he is of no use to the league. He can see how some of the other assassins move away from him, subtle shifts to guard themselves, as is trained when fighting an unstable opponent. 

Damian’s own cast is removed relatively soon after, the kid was right, he was definitely able to fight just as well with his left hand as he did with his right. 

Jason was growing used to not being able to do anything at all. He took to running, he would race the dunes for hours, his endurance steadily rising until he felt as though he could race around for centuries without issue. When he wasn’t running he was strategizing with Talia, they came up with various contingency plans for when they would have to run. It no longer was a question of if, it was a question of when. They made plans upon plans, each one making sure someone had Damian, making sure there was a way for them to find each other if separated.

His hands healed at different speeds, his left hand healed much quicker than his right, so it was freed from its cast. Damian took great pleasure teaching his older brother how to fight with one hand casted.

Talia was sent on a mission two weeks before Damian’s birthday. She didn’t look happy about it, before she left, she held both of her boys tightly.

“If the time comes.” Talia whispered into Jason’s ear, “You take Damian and run. I will find you both.”

Jason nodded once, Damian looked between them with thin suspecting eyes.

But they didn’t have time to talk about it, because Ra’s came and yelled at them for dallying. Jason was told to leave, and Damian was to train with his grandfather. Jason made sure not to be too far away, in case Ra’s tried anything, and Talia took one last glance at her sons before boarding a private jet.

That night, under the guise of reading a novel, Jason told Damian of plans in case they were separated. Damian looked like he wanted to argue, but said nothing.

Damian’s birthday was celebrated with just Jason and his brother, Talia was still off on a secretive mission. 

The morning of Damian’s birthday was cooler than it had been in weeks, and heavy clouds covered the sky. Jason woke Damian before dawn, shaking the boy awake. 

Damian rolled from his bed immediately, ready for a fight, but Jason just smiled lopsidedly. And snuck Damian into the garage from the league.

“Can I drive?” Damian asked, as Jason stole a set of keys.

“Do you know where we are going?” Jason shot back, picking a nondescript car, and disabling the low-jack quickly.

“I would if you told me.” Damian huffed, but slid into the passenger seat. Jason just grinned widely.

He drove them for almost an hour until they got to the only town around the compound. Damian stared out the window, eyes wide, but trying to school his expression. Damian had left the compound a total of five times, and most of those times it was to nondescript locations to train, he had never seen a town like this. 

The sun was peaking from the clouds, glaring off the streets.

Finally Jason stopped at a small wildlife sanctuary. Damian was looking at Jason with wide eyes, innocently confused. 

“Why are we here?”

“For your birthday Brat.” Jason said, rolling his eyes as if it was obvious. 

Jason had picked this place because he remembered most of Damian’s pictures were of the wildlife he could see from the compound. Animals seemed to intrigue Damian, and Jason figured the sanctuary would show more animals, bigger and more interesting.

“I don’t understand.” Damian said, shaking his head.

“It’s for fun Dami. Remember what I said about fun?” 

Damian looked at Jason up and down, the kid unconsciously rubbed at his now healed wrist. Jason bit his lip, violently reminded of Damian’s last run in with fun.

Jason switched tactics, “Think of it as a training exercise. You are not Damian al Ghul, heir to the Demon head. You are just Damian, regular kid. And I am just your big brother. We need to fit in, not draw attention to ourselves.”

“A training exercise.” Damian asked, and Jason nodded.

He threw Damian a some civvies, and the kid changed from his league wear to shorts and a tee-shirt. Jason pushed a cap low onto his brow, to keep the sun’s exposure to a minimum. 

“Alright!” Jason smiled, grabbing a backpack he had packed the night before, “let’s go.”

It took a while for Damian to slip into the role of a normal kid, but as soon as he saw a tiger lounging in the the shade of a tree he was entranced. Damian spent a half an hour staring at the cat in awe. During that time Jason read off the plaque talking about tigers in general and then the specific tigers in the enclosure.

The next animal they saw was a blind gorilla who was swinging walking about the enclosure. Damian smiled at him, his hands twitched, so Jason pulled out the half-used sketch pad and put it into Damian’s arms.

Damian drew with an intense focus. The gorilla on the page was drawn messily, put clearly looked like a gorilla. Jason nodded in appreciation, but said nothing to break Damian’s concentration.

They spent hours at the sanctuary, reading each of the plaques with care. Damian drew each animal, and below wrote their names.

They stayed until the sanctuary announced they were closing. 

“Can I drive back?” Damian asked.

Jason actually considered it, Damian knew how to drive, but Jason wasn’t sure the police would like that.

“You got to go to the sanctuary.” Jason waved Damian off, climbing into the driver’s seat.

They drove in silence for only fifteen minutes before Damian spoke again, “Did I pass the training?”

Jason’s hands tightened on the wheel, he hated how Damian felt like he had to be training. He hated how Damian didn’t know how to have fun. It just wasn’t fair.

“Depends.” Jason said finally, “Did you have fun, or were you just pretending?”

“I enjoyed myself.” Damian said finally, he had a small smile.

“Then you passed.”

They were silent for a few more minutes until Damian spoke again, "Are we really leaving the league?"

"Only if we need to." Jason promised, sparing a glance from the road to Damian, who was looking out the window, "And you, me and Ma, we will all be together I promise."

Jason couldn't tell if Damian was satisfied with that answer, but he didn't talk for the rest of the drive.

When they got back, Ra’s punished Jason for taking the prince away without permission. Jason was flogged, five quick and hard lashes, but it was worth it.

***

Talia returned the same day Jason got his cast removed. Talia came back with hallow eyes. She told him in the shadows of their room that someone was destroying the Lazarus Pits. There were only a few left, the one in Kirigi’s compound, one in Switzerland, and the one in their compound.

And despite the fear and uncertainty that came from the losses, Jason was secretly glad the pits were being destroyed. He hoped they would all get destroyed.

Ra’s was growing more paranoid, he was starting to lose himself, fear and anger taking over. The other assassins noticed too, they began to treat their leader the same way they had treated Jason after the Joker incident. Ra’s didn’t notice, he was desperately sending out members of the league to different areas, hoping to get information on whoever was destroying the pits. Those that did make it back, had no information, but many didn’t make it back at all.

It was late at night, Jason was training in one of the empty rooms. He had an itch of adrenaline in his veins that he couldn’t get rid of.

Suddenly the compound shook, a loud boom echoed through the hall.

For a moment after the compound was silent, completely silent, and then sounds exploded everywhere. Gun shots came from one end of the compound, shouting followed. Jason could smell the smolder of smoke, and his heart beat echoed in his ears.

He tore from where he was, running as fast as he could to Talia and Damian’s room. They were on the other side of the compound, closer to the gun shots.

The introducers wore all black, and were well prepared. They were all able to handle their own against the league members. Jason had to dodge through fights, and roll out of the way of swords.

One stubborn intruder grabbed at Jason’s shoulder. The intruder had a run in hand, pressing the AK-47 into the small of his back.

Silently Jason reappraised his original thought of these intruders being well trained, because everyone one knew when the gun is pressed to the skin it is far easier to turn and slap the gun away from his back. 

Jason was even able to take the gun, and shoot the intruder in the gut. He didn’t even wait for the man to fall forward, already sprinting closer to the room, hoping that he could find his family in this mess. The gun was heavy in his hands.

He came to the al Ghul’s room, but it was empty, some of the tables were overturned. Jason had to take a steadying breath from seeing green.

The gun fire was louder here, and the smell of smoke was choking him. Ignoring that, Jason looked around the room, noticed that all three to-go bags were missing, meaning Talia had gotten Damian out of there. Talia would be waiting for a week at the third motel in the phone book.

Jason looked over his shoulder, shadows were running down the halls, coming to the room. 

He took one last glance at the room he had lived in for the past four years, and slipped from the window. He ran far enough away from the compound, that he could no longer see the orange flames, but no matter how far he ran he still tasted the black smoke that covered the moon and stars.

When Jason arrived into town, he was covered in sand and soot, the light of predawn was just starting to glow over the horizon. In the motel he gave the man at the desk the fake name he and Talia had agreed upon. The man nodded before heading to the back room to grab something.

Jason looked at the open calendar, and realized it was his birthday, nineteen and his home had been burned to the ground. 

The man behind the desk directed him to a motel room. Jason knocked twice on the door.

It flung open to reveal Damian and Talia both. They stood tense and tall, but upon seeing him Damian sagged in relief. He threw himself at Jason, hugging his brother tightly. Jason smiled, ruffling the kids hair.

“What do we do now?” Jason asked, when they were safely inside the motel.

“You’re not going to like it.” Talia said, but her tone left no room to argue, “But we need help. Whoever planned this is powerful. We need allies.”

Talia was right, Jason wasn’t liking this.

“We need to go to Gotham.”

Jason bit his lip, but Damian was staring with wide eyes.

“Kid, looks like you don’t have to beat your mom in a duel after all.” Jason spoke bitterly, “Guess you’re meeting your father now.”


	5. And the Year Back

It took seven days and six flights to finally get to Gotham. Talia had been worried, constantly throwing her head over her shoulder, and making them switch flights last minute. When they finally set foot in Gotham, it was twilight, the night coming soon, and with it the protector of Gotham. The smog was choking, surrounding them all like a blanket. Damian had never been in a city before, and he coughed loudly.

It had been five and a half years since Jason had set foot in Gotham. It had been four years (almost to the day) that Jason had awoken in the pit praying for Bruce to come save him.

Damian was quiet, far more quiet than usual, as Talia ushered them into a hot-wired car from the long term parking unit. The first couple days he had asked question upon question about his father. At first they were directed at both Jason and Talia, but when it became clear Jason wouldn’t answer the questions, Damian became obsessed with Jason’s opinion’s on his dad.

 _“The man is a bastard!”_ Jason had finally shouted, his composure cracked and crumbling, _“He let me die and he did nothing! He only cares about his crusade. I would have been much better of if Bruce had never met me!”_

Talia ushered Damian away after that, whispering in soothing tones the story of Jason’s life. Damian hadn’t known any of it, only the broad strokes. But Talia told him in detail, of Jason’s biological father abusing him, about how he had been raised dirt poor until he was saved by her beloved. How Bruce had failed him, let him die bloody and hadn’t avenged him either. And then how she had found him, catatonic but alive, and threw him into the pit for a second chance at life.

Damian didn’t say much after that talk, and Jason was so stressed that it didn’t matter. His body shook at the prospect of returning to Wayne Manor, his mind roared the many possible outcomes that could arise.

He predicted all of them to be bad.

Talia got them to Wayne Manor fairly early. The darkness was still inky across the horizon, but Batman wouldn’t be out for two hours yet.

Talia snuck them into the Batcave. It looked the same as Jason remembered it. Various trophies from different rogues on display, both souvenirs and reminders. The computer was giant, casting a eerie blue light around the cave.

The only thing to change was the wall of uniforms now in glass tubes. There were quite a few, far more than there had been when he was Robin.

His gaze found his old uniform, memorialized in glass. There was a plaque beneath it.

**Jason Todd**

**A Good Soldier**

Jason’s blood boiled at his epitaph. 

“I can’t do this.” Jason said, making a move to leave, but Talia caught his arm. She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the man Jason didn’t want to see. 

Bruce Wayne looked much the same as he did years ago. He was more aged, grey at the temple and eyes that just seemed so tired. But he was still built like a tree, still had deep ocean blue eyes that could see into your soul.

“Talia.” Bruce gritted out, “What are you doing here?”

Talia didn’t let go of Jason’s arm, but she did turn to look Bruce in the eye. A smile lit up her face, one that if Jason didn’t know the woman, would have seemed genuinely excited.

“Beloved.” Talia said, her honey sweet voice dripping with extra sugar.

Bruce didn’t look convinced, he did however look at Jason. There was no recognition in his eyes, and Jason honestly didn’t know if he should have been happy or sad about that. Because that really proved that Bruce had never been his father didn’t it?

“I have come to ask for your help.” Talia said, her voice still sickly sweet.

“And why would I help you?” Bruce snarled out, Jason’s hands clenched to fists, but it was Damian who stepped up to protect his mother’s honor.

Damian side-stepped Talia, finally coming into Bruce’s line of vision. Jason could see the shock flickering through Bruce’s face, clearly the kid had a strong resemblance to Bruce’s side of the family.

“Because father.” Damian spoke seriously, “It is not only her who requires assistance.”

Jason could see Bruce do the math in his head, could see him calculate the exact likelihood that Damian wasn’t lying and really was his blood son. The math must have held, because Bruce sighed deeply, the type of sigh that reached to the depths of his bones.

Bruce called over an intercom, “Alfred, please come down here. I need your help with a blood sample.”

Jason felt an inch of anticipation run down his spine at the though of seeing Alfred again. Of all the people he left behind, Alfred was the one he missed the most, and to see the man who had practically grandfathered him made his heart beat a tick quicker.

“Beloved,” Talia asked with a fox-like smile, “Would I ever lie to you?”

Bruce didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead his eyes drifted over to Jason, “Who’s this?”

“None of your damn business.” Jason said, his voice was harsh, but Bruce didn’t blink. Talia did, however, seem slightly taken aback.

“Well, I need to take blood samples, prove your claims.” Bruce said, walking to the med bay. Damian and Talia followed, Talia forcibly dragged Jason to follow as well.

Damian let his blood be taken without a fuss. When Bruce was done expertly marking it off, he turned to look at Jason.

“Fuck no.” Jason sneered at the blood collection kit. He said that right as Alfred had come into the room.

“Language young man.” Alfred said, looking Jason up and down. There was no hint of recognition in the old man’s eyes. And that hurt more than Jason was willing to admit. Next to Alfred was Dick Grayson, the golden boy, who was smiling widely. Jason wanted to punch that stupid smile off the man’s face.

“Run a paternity test against that sample.” Bruce directed Alfred. The old man didn’t react except to look Damian up and down. Dick on the other hand looked positively giddy.

“Really Bruce! After all the talks you gave me about being careful and safe. And now this.” Dick was smiling though, as if this were all a joke. Jason didn’t find it funny.

Talia must have sensed the unease in Jason’s stance, because she used her other hand, the one not wrapped tightly around his upper arm, to pat Jason’s hand. The gestured was seen by everyone in the room.

“And who are you then?” Dick asked, at least he had the decency to address Jason directly, “The other contestant to be the father.”

Not only would Jason been 12 years old if he was Damian’s father, it was just a ridiculous statement. Jason didn’t rise to the bait.

Damian however couldn’t help himself, he never could deal with being insulted.

“He’s my brother.” Damian hissed out.

Talia sent her son a warning look, a look that told him to shut up immediately, but the damage was done. Bruce was looking Jason up and down with a cool calculating gaze, one that could pick him apart and put him back together. It made Jason feel nauseous, he didn’t want to be in the presence of Bruce, and he really didn’t want this kind of attention from the man.

Whatever might have been said was interrupted by the computer screen dinging. Bright red numbers were shown across the screen.

98.7% MATCH

“Congratulation B.” Dick deadpanned, “It’s a boy.”

Jason had hoped they would just go to sleep after Talia had been proven truthful. He wanted to get out of this depressing cave and away from that terrible monument to himself. 

But nothing ever went Jason’s way.

His replacement came down the stairs, taking them two at a time, excited an happy. And God the kid looked so young. He knew from files that Tim Drake was sixteen years old, but he looked considerably younger. It was a mixture of the kid’s slight frame and face still clinging to its baby fat, but the kid was _young_.

Jason wanted to shake him, tell he to wake up, to run away. Because this new Robin was still a child, like Jason had been. And clearly Batman’s rogues had no qualms about killing children.

“Wow, there are a lot of people down here.” The replacement said, eyes wide and voice pitched a little higher that seemed natural on the kid. Jason clenched his teeth, and Talia squeezed his hand tighter. Whether it was meant to be comforting, or meant as a warning not to hurt the kid, Jason would never know.

“Tim, this is Talia al Ghul, from the League of Assassins, and her sons Damian and …” Bruce trailed off waiting for a name to be supplied, one never was.

Damian was looking at Jason and Talia, he didn’t say a word, but he seemed lost and hurt. Jason wished he could stop Damian from feeling that way, but Jason could barely hold on to himself, could barley keep green from flashing over his vision. There was no way that he could tell Bruce who he was, no way for him to keep his cool if Bruce knew he was alive.

It was Tim who finally broke the awkward tension, “Isn’t Talia a bad guy…”

“Take that back you simpleton!” Damian shouted, balling his fists ready to fight Tim for his mother’s honor. Tim gave Damian a dubious look, but he subtly moved so her was more behind Bruce.

“Beloved please.” Talia tried again, her voice was genuine now. It made Jason’s skin crawl to hear her beg to this man, “We are being hunted by the league and unknown assailants alike. I just want my sons to be safe from harm. Offer us shelter.”

“She sounds sincere Master Bruce.” Alfred said quietly, and Jason’s eyes snapped to him. The old man was looking the three up and down his gaze focusing a bit too intently on Jason.

“Fine.” Bruce grunted, “But there are rules for staying here. No killing, and I want time to meet Damian, you’ve kept him from me for this long.”

Talia said nothing but nodded tightly. Jason wanted to leave now more than ever. And Damian seemed happy at this new development, though he didn’t really show it.

***

They were given a Jack and Jill style room, Damian and Jason sharing one and Talia taking the other, a nice bathroom connecting the room. They were on the opposite side of the manor from the rest of the occupied bedrooms, something that Jason found as a great relief. He couldn’t bring himself to look a his old bedroom.

Talia and Bruce spent most of their time arguing, Jason could hear them often from behind closed doors, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Usually it ended with Bruce heading to work and growling for Talia to stay out of trouble, Talia would spend the day either exercising with her boys or walking the grounds with a huff.

Damian and Jason awoke early every morning, and went through the motions of their katas while the rest of the house slept. It was good to have some routine.

Then they would have breakfast, made by Alfred. Damian would eat the foods, and almost spit them out, “They taste almost as bed as your cooking Ahki.”

Alfred had laughed lightly, and then looked to Jason, “Are you a cook _Ahki_?”

It was something that slightly unnerved Jason, to hear Alfred call him Ahki. It wasn’t Alfred’s fault, he heard Damian call Jason Ahki enough times to make it seem like it was his name, and Jason never corrected the assumption. But Ahki meant brother in Arabic, and with the ban on saying Jason’s real name in the house, he was going by exclusively nicknames. Still it was weird to be called brother by Alfred of all people.

Jason didn’t say anything in response to Alfred’s question, sipping from his coffee mug. It made the light of Alfred’s eyes dim a bit, and Jason had enough of a heart to feel bad about it, but not enough to speak up.

The worst part of staying in the manor was that Dick (who forced Tim as well) wanted to get to know his new younger brother. Dick would sit with them when they were reading, or would shout out comments while they trained.

Jason wanted to howl, to bash Wonderboy’s face in. Because Dick hadn’t cared about Jason, hadn’t tried to get to know him at all. Now he was intent on being a big brother?

It left Jason in the cave punching a bag until his knuckles split and Talia dragged him away.

It was early one morning, Damian and Jason were sitting at the kitchen table. Damian was eating bland eggs made by Alfred and Jason was sipping a hot cup of coffee. Usually breakfasts were a quiet affair, with only the three of them, but today Dick came bounding in with a too wide smile and a sleepy looking Replacement behind him. And Alfred had already wandered off, getting to work on some chores.

Jason almost groaned at their presence.

Dick sat down across from Damian, eyes wide and excited. Replacement went to the coffee maker on the counter and poured himself a large coffee and then drowned it with cream and sugar.

“I was thinking Dami-” Dick started.

“Do not call me Dami. It is not my name.” 

Dick continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “We should do something together, you me and Tim. Brotherly bonding. I hear there is a carnival in town.”

Jason’s hand tightened on the mug. He hated carnivals, loud noises and the abundance of clowns, they were a nightmare. But if Damian decided to go, he would follow, keep the kid safe.

Damian glanced at Jason, and then said, “I’d rather not.”

Dick’s smile faltered, he looked at Jason robin’s egg blue eyes calculating. “Your brother can come too of course.”

Jason snorted into his cup. It was funny to think that Dick had a choice in the matter, Jason would be going with his brother no matter what. Even if he hadn’t been allowed, Jason would have followed from a discreet distance.

Dick looked at Jason again, a slight frown on his face. The Replacement was now sitting down, across from Jason, who quickly averted his eyes. It was still hard to look at the kid who had taken his place without wanting to kill him, so Jason tried his best to keep a safe distance away.

“I do not wish to go with you to something as ridiculous as a carnival.” Damian said again, stabbing at the eggs on his plate. “I don’t understand why you are constantly asking me to do sophomoric things.”

Replacement laughed, “Nice vocab word.”

Damian shot him a death glare, and Replacement quickly took a long sip of his coffee. Sometimes Jason felt bad that Damian had picked up on his own hostility towards the other two kids of Bruce, because it made Damian stand-offish as well. But in moments like this, with a sixteen year old so clearly frightened by Damian, it was kind of funny. Besides this hostility was better than Damian's reaction to him, the kid had wanted to murder Jason to keep his path to the throne in tact.

Dick was resolutely ignoring everything but Damian. He gave the kid his best puppy dog eyes, “Because Damian, we’re brothers now. I want us to be a family.”

Damian snorted, “You are not my brothers, and you are not good brother. Not with the way you treated Jason.”

Jason choked on his drink upon hearing his name. 

The entire world fell away and he felt too hot and too cold. Dick looked as if he had been slapped, his eyes wide and his jaw slack. Tim had put his mug on the table, staring wide eyed at Damian.

And Damian? Jason had never seen a face exemplify ‘oh shit’ more than the kid’s did now.

“How do you know that name?” Dick asked, his voice was thick.

Damian was looking anywhere but Dick.

“Jason died. It’s a low blow.” Tim spoke darkly.

Jason’s hand tightened until the handle of his mug cracked. The mug, no longer being held up fell to the ground, shattering into pieces. Hot coffee splashed across Jason's shins.

Dick’s gaze went to Jason, their eyes met. And Jason could just tell, _Dick knew_.

Not giving anyone time to react, Jason pushed his chair back, it’s legs screeched over the tile floors. And he was gone from the room. But he needed to get out, go further. Dick wasn’t following him yet, but Jason knew he would.

He went to the cave, and took the car Talia had stole. They kept meaning to give it back, but Talia never did that. It was as now that Jason realized Talia was giving him a way out, giving him a chance to run.

Jason drove away, nobody followed him.

For an hour Jason drove aimlessly, just driving and driving, until he found himself parked outside his old apartment in Crime Alley. The building he used to live in looked the exact same as it had been, old and decrepit, but the first floor had been renovated into a bodega. 

Jason hadn’t been here is years, hadn’t been here even before he died. It held bad memories.

He counted the windows, five up and three across, and stared at it. The shade was down, but there was light on. Jason remembered his life in that apartment. He remembered looking out from his window to the street below, waiting for Willis to return, hoping that he wouldn’t. That was the thing about Willis Todd, no matter how many times Jason had wished the man would just stay gone, he kept coming back. He remembered leaving the safety of his room to see Catherine passed out on the sofa, alcohol and drugs always near by.

It was sick and pathetic that Jason wanted to return to that, that he wished he had never left crime alley. Because his life had been shit, but it had been simple.

Jason went to the bodega, it was quiet and sleepy, but a mess. He asked for a pack of camels.

Jason hadn’t smoked for four years, the league didn’t permit it. But he needed it, it was like returning to Gotham had returned his addiction.

He went back to his car, lighting one cigarette and inhaling slowly. It tasted like shit, worse than he remembered, but it felt natural to have it between his fingers. He took another puff, and his nerves finally started to relax.

He stayed there for hours, until the sun began its decent again, he had only smoked the one cigarette, but he wanted more. Sighing, Jason started his car again.

When the manor came into view, Jason felt the need for a cigarette even more, his fingers twitching.

He drove down the winding road up to the front door. He wasn’t surprised to see Dick sitting on the front step, head hung low.

When the car door slammed, Dick looked up, his eyes were watery and red. 

_Fuck!_ Jason took out another cigarette, placing it between his teeth.

“Jay-” Dick said, his voice hoarse and broken. Jason clenched his hands into fists, because honestly what right did Dick have to be broken? “Can we talk?”

Really Jason didn’t want to, but who knows what would happen if he said no to Dick. Maybe Wonderboy, ever the perfect child, would tell Bruce if Jason refused. So Jason nodded once, tersely.

Dick lead them away from the house and to the shade of a giant sycamore tree. It held no significance to either of them, and that’s why is was the best place to have this conversation. Jason stood awkwardly, the shade of the tree covering his face, Dick was staring at Jason so hard, as if trying to connect the boy who died to the man who stood before him.

Jason took one last drag of his cigarette, and then stuffed it out in the soul of his boot. Dick watched with interest.

“Listen Dickface,” Jason said after a few long minutes, “You’re the one who wanted to talk, so talk. I have better things to do than just stand here.”

“I thought you were dead.” Dick said, his voice was still raw, teetering on hysterical, “Bruce buried you, I was there.”

“Yeah well, guess it didn’t really stick.” Jason said, trying to play it off. 

He didn’t remember crawling from his coffin. On some level Jason knew Bruce had buried him, put him in a coffin six feet below, but Jason never considered that he might have had a funeral.

Dick balked, as if Jason’s words made him physically sick.

“You were alive the whole time? You made us believe you died?” Dick asked, the man was growing closer and closer to hysterical, which was something Jason didn’t want to deal with. 

Besides, Jason didn’t understand why Dick was acting so worked up, it wasn’t as if he had cared for Jason when he was alive. 

“No I definitely died, I was dead.” Jason spoke with a clipped voice, “I just didn’t stay that way.”

“Why didn’t you come home? Why didn’t you tell us?” Dick screamed, tears were falling from his eyes now. Jason actually took a step back at the outburst.

But then Jason remembered, he was the one who should be angry. Dick didn’t have the right to be mad. Jason had died! And Dick had survived, Dick didn’t get to be angry at Jason for this.

“Tell you what? By the time I could, even if I wanted to, Bruce had already replaced me. Not that it took him any time to do that! There was nothing for me to come back to.” 

“Nothing to come back to?” Dick was screaming, it forced Jason to remember that Dick had more experience than him, Dick could hurt Jason if he really wanted to. “We are your family Jay! You could’ve come back to us!”

“Talia and Damian are my family!” Jason bit out, his hands clenched into fists to defend himself. 

Jason fought tooth and nail when Ra’s was around to prove that Talia and Damian were his family. He had scars for and from both of them. Jason didn’t want to fight again, didn’t want to prove his ties again. Especially not for Dick.

“Jay-” Dick started, making a move to touch Jason. But Jason stepped back, out of reach. He was brought back to the days, right after he arose from the bit, when he was raw and wouldn’t let anyone touch him. He felt the same now, raw and exposed.

“Why do you even care? You hated me when I was alive. And Bruce was just using me as a weapon in the streets. I mean he didn’t even wait until I was cold in the ground to get a new soldier to replace me!”

Dick’s face went slack, all the anger drained away leaving him white as a ghost. Jason was shaking, anger dripping in his veins hot and painful.

“You can’t really think that.” Dick said quietly.

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s the truth.” Jason shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. Pretending that it didn’t hurt anymore, even though there would always be a sting accomplished by those words.

Jason could see Dick’s heart break, Golden Boy always wore his emotions openly. He watched Dick’s face get soft and saw how his eyes watered even more.

“Jason I never hated you. I was angry with Bruce when you came and I took it out on you, and I will never forgive myself for that. Why do you think I have been so desperate to be kind to Damian, I was wrong to have treated you the way I did, and I thought I could never make up for it, but I had to try. But I love you. I did back then, and I do now.” Dick whispered, “So does Bruce. You dying, it broke him, broke him in ways that I don’t think he will ever be healed from. Tim was the only thing that saved him, the only reason that Bruce isn’t six feet under next to you.”

Jason bit his lip, “If Bruce loves me that much, why is the guy who murdered me still breathing?”

And then Jason turned and left, going into the manor. 

He found Talia in his and Damian’s shared room. She didn’t say anything, and Jason just sat next to her.

“Does everyone know now?” Jason asked tightly.

“Only Timothy and Richard.” Thalia promised, he didn’t reach out to touch him, which Jason was thankful for, “Damian feels very badly.”

“Next time I see the kid I’ll let him know it’s not his fault.” Jason promised.

“It’s not your fault either.” Talia whispered solemnly. 

***

Damian slipped into their shared room late that night, in his hands a beat up copy of a novel. Damian shoved it at his brother, it was the only apology that Jason would get (also the only one he needed) and the two stayed up late together. Jason reading the novel aloud, it was a bad novel stupid and trashy, but the two pretended that they both enjoyed it.

The next morning as Jason and Damian preformed their katas in the ballroom, Dick came in. He sat silently in the corner, just watching the pair train. Jason tried his best to ignore the older man’s presence, and Damian sent him sharp glares, but Dick didn’t leave.

The three went to breakfast together, Alfred was already there preparing breakfast.

“Ah, Master Dick, glad to see you awake so early this morning.” Alfred smiled, before turning to Damian, “Master Damian I made Tunisia for breakfast this morning. I do so hope it is not disgustingly bland.”

Damian nodded, taking the plate from Alfred’s hands.

“Ah-ah-ah Brat.” Jason said scooping the plate from Damian’s hands, “What do you say to the chef.”

Damian sighed dramatically, “Thank you Pennyworth. Your effort has been noted.”

Jason rolled his eyes, but gave Damian the plate back. He went to make his own cup of coffee.

“I am so glad that my effort has come to your attention.” Alfred said dryly. “And for you Master Dick, do you want anything before I go?”

Dick wore a big smile, like this was all he wanted in the world, “Nah Alfie, thanks, I’ll just eat some cereal.”

Alfred tutted, but left the room anyway. Jason sat down next to Damian, who was eating his Tunisia. From where Jason sat, he could smell the spices, so it was definitely not too bland this time.

“How ya’ liking it kid?” Jason asked.

“It is adequate.” Damian concluded (which was high praise from the boy), “Much better than the first time you tried to make it.”

“You cook?” Dick asked from across the table, staring at the pair.

Jason rolled his eyes, if Dick had been around even a bit when Jason lived at the Manor, Dick would have known that Jason cooked. He had always loved to do it. 

“Of course he does.” Damian spat, “My brother is the second best cook in all of Nanda Parbat, after only me of course.”

Dick smiled softly at that, which made Jason shift in his seat. It felt almost domestic and sweet. And therefore Jason hated it.

But he figured by tomorrow whatever weird obligation Dick was feeling towards him would have faded, and he would be left alone.

Boy was Jason wrong.

The next morning Dick had to go back to work, but he had written a note and slid it under Jason and Damian’s door, promising to be back soon. The idiot had even signed the note with a small heart over the ‘I’ in his name. Jason tore the note up and threw it in the trash.

Dick had returned two days later, with a glossy hardcover book in his hand. It was _Good Omens_ by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. The cover had Michael Sheen and the guy from Doctor Who on it. Jason promised never to read it, but that night he was in stitches over the first chapter.

Dick wasn’t deterred by Jason’s lack of warmth. He spent all the time when he was in the manor with Damian and Jason (who were never seen apart from each other) usually dragging Tim along as well.

They were all in the same room, Jason and Damian were watching a movie (Highlander), and Replacement and Dick were on the other sofa also watching the same movie. Jason refused to say that the four of them were watching the movie together. Because that would border on them being friendly, which they were decidedly not.

Bruce saw them together, his face twisted darkly.

“Tim, Dick come over here please.”

Bruce’s two kids did as they were told, dutifully following orders. Jason paused the movie (he was not doing it for Dick and Replacement’s sake! He just wanted to pause it).

Both Damian and Jason could hear Bruce as the man spoke in a harsh whisper, “You two need to be careful around that man. He is dangerous.”

“So is Damian.” Replacement countered. Jason didn’t know if the Replacement was saying this for Jason’s sake or to get out of spending time with Damian. But next to him, Damian beamed, puffing up his chest and proud to be considered dangerous.

“Damian is a child brainwashed by the League.” Bruce said darkly. Jason had to hold Damian down to keep him from attacking Bruce for that statement, “We know nothing about the other one. All we know for sure is he is dangerous.”

“Jason isn’t dangerous, he’s hurt.” Replacement piped up.

 _God Damn it!_ Jason knew there was a reason he hated that kid.

“What?” Bruce asked his voice coming out with a dark edge.

“Oh shit!” Replacement said, sounding horrified, “You didn’t hear it from me B…”

Replacement was saying more, but Jason was already moving, sneaking away from the couch and up to Talia’s room. Damian followed him closely.

When Jason burst into Talia’s room she was doing pushups on the floor, she sat up on her knees when the two came in. She didn’t look surprised to see them, maybe a little tired.

“When Bruce gets here, tell him I jumped out the window. Or tell him I died again. Or that I was a figment of his imagination the whole time. But I am hiding in your closet until he is gone.” Jason said hurriedly.

Damian blinked at Jason, watching his older brother go into his mother’s closet. “You are a trained assassin, act like it.”

Jason stuck his tongue out, climbing so that he was on the ceiling, his arms braced on one wall his feet on the other. Damian sighed and looked at his mother as if asking: _Why did you adopt such a stupid boy_. Talia looked somehow both disappointed and hurt at the same time.

She opened her mouth to ask what was going on when Bruce stormed into the room. In an instant everyone’s demeanor changed, expect Jason who was still hiding. Talia looked amused, giving Bruce a cat-like smile and Damian was looking haughtily at Bruce, not at the open closet.

“Hello Beloved.” Talia said with her honey sweet voice, “what brings you to my room?”

“Where is he?” Bruce asked his voice dark.

From Jason’s vantage point of the closet ceiling he couldn’t Bruce, could only see Talia kneeling on the ground and Damian.

“Who?” Talia asked.

“I am not playing games, where is Jason?” Bruce said again. He was using his gruff Batman voice.

Talia looked around, her gaze settling on Damian. After a long minute she sighed and turned back to Bruce.

“He is hiding in my closet. On the ceiling if you can believe it.” Talia said, her voice thick with sarcasm. Jason’s arms still shook, he waited in baited breath for Bruce to come into the closet, to see him hiding like a fool and a coward.

“I already told you I am not playing!” Bruce shouted. “Where is my son?”

Jason saw red, how dare Bruce call him a son. He was nothing to Bruce, if Bruce had even cared he would have noticed how Jason climbed out of his own grave. He would have seen the gaping hole left by a terrified kid clawing his way to survival. But Bruce didn’t care back then, so Bruce did get to care now.

“Do you think if he wanted to see you he would have lied for the past few months we have been here?” Talia asked.

Bruce stepped into view, he towered over the still kneeling Talia. Jason didn’t like it, Didn’t like Bruce having the upper hand in combat. Damian didn’t like it either, he saw the kid’s stance shift, readying for a fight.

“I want to see him.”

“B.” A voice called from the hallway. It was Golden boy, sounding disappointed, “She’s right. If Jason wanted us to know he was alive he would have told us. If you push him now, he might leave again.”

Bruce took one last look around the room, before he nodded stiffly. 

Jason heard the door click closed, but waited for Damian to nod at him before dropping down from his hiding space.

He was surprised when Damian gave him a hug, the kid had said he had outgrown hugging a while ago, but Damian squeezed his brother tight. Talia too walked into the closet, sad eyes burning wholes into his heart.

“What do you want to do my phoenix?” Talia asked, “I can get you out of the country, I can keep you hidden and safe if you want.”

And Jason did want that, he knew it was dangerous to be away from the Batman’s protection, especially with whoever was targeting the League still out there. But if Jason left it would be a solo journey, he would be leaving behind Talia and Damian. 

Because Bruce wasn’t letting Damian out of his sight, he hadn’t had the kid for eight years and now he was trying desperately to make up for that. And with the new knowledge that Jason was in fact alive, Jason figured he would be even more reluctant to let Damian slip from his grasp.

Besides, he didn’t want Talia to have to chose between her sons, chose which one she would stay with.

They were stronger together.

“I’ll stay, but I need a few days to sort myself out.” Jason sighed, going to his room and grabbing the to-go bag (old habits die hard). “I have somewhere to stay, so don’t worry about me.”

Talia nodded once, and Damian looked like he wanted to argue. Jason ruffle the kid’s hair, “I’ll be back before you even know it.” Jason promised.

And then Jason slipped from the window, running through the estate with practiced ease.

***

Jason hadn’t been lying when he said he had a place to go, he was exaggerating a bit sure, but not lying. It took Jason a full day to get from Gotham to Bludhaven, and once he did he broke into Dick’s apartment.

The place was small and unkempt, it smelled vaguely of stale socks. When Jason checked the cabinets there was only cereal, the fridge had a carton of milk and a six pack of beer, which one was already drunk.

Jason made himself a bowl of cereal and waited for Dick on the guys couch.

Four hours later Jason was still sitting on the couch, now onto his third bottle of beer. Dick opened his door, not noticing Jason on the couch.

“Your taste in beer is shit.” Jason proclaimed, taking another long swig because he is a glutton for punishment.

Dick jumped slightly, it was fun to scare people again, no one in the league ever got jumpy. Dick reached down to his hip, where his firearm was till holstered, before looking at Jason on the couch.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not legal to drink yet.” Dick said instead of a greeting.

Jason gave a wolfish grin, “So arrest me officer.”

Dick rolled his eyes before sitting down next to Jason, still in his police uniform. 

“I’m sorry that Tim spilled the beans. For a kid that can keep Batman’s identity under wraps he is surprisingly bad a secret keeping.” Dick said finally.

Jason shrugged taking another long sip of beer. The more he drank it the more the beer tasted of piss.

“Knew someone was going to crack, wasn’t all that surprised it was the Replacement.”

Dick’s face twisted the way it always did when he called Tim the Replacement, but he didn’t comment on it. Picking battles and what not. Instead Dick asked, “If you knew he was going to find out, why didn’t you just tell him?”

Jason swished the beer around his mouth. He shrugged again.

“I knew-” Jason started his voice thick. It took him a minute to get the next words out, and Dick just looked at him softly, “I knew telling Bruce meant I had to tell him everything you know?”

Dick shook his head, he didn’t know.

The beer was just starting to cloud his brain, making everything hazy. Jason was more open than he had been in a while, more open than he was with Talia and Damian. He never drank so even this little amount of alcohol was getting to him, that’s what he would tell himself in the morning. But the truth was Jason couldn’t tell this shit to Damian because Damian was still a kid, and he couldn’t tell Talia because it would be a slap in the face to her. He could only tell Dick, because it didn’t affect Dick the same way it affected everyone else.

“When I talk to Bruce, I have to talk about all of it. I have to talk about the warehouse, how I kept waiting and praying that Bruce would just get there. I have too look him in the eye when I tell him how he failed to save me. I have to tell him how I was wondering the streets of Gotham for two weeks after my resurrection, catatonic and confused, I was right under his nose! And then I have to talk about the beginning with the league, how I actually waited up every night expecting Bruce to jumps through the windows and save me. I have to tell Bruce about the people I killed-” Jason choked off.

Hot embarrassing tears filled his eyes, making Dick look fuzzy, “God, I killed so many people. I remember the first time I killed someone, I remember thinking about how disappointed Bruce would be in me. Now I will have to see him, see the disappointment. And I have to tell him the reason I went mad, the reason I killed that first person was because she told me about my replacement and I went crazy.”

Dick took Jason’s hand, held tightly. Jason didn’t know when the tears started falling down his cheeks, but they couldn’t stop now.

"And he is going to ask about the scars. He is going to want to know why I was tortured. And there are so many scars that I just can't tell him about. I just can't."

“Jaybird,” Dick said soothingly, “It’s okay. It’s all okay.”

Jason wrenched himself away, “How can it be okay Dick? How is any of this okay?”

“You did what you had to. You survived and everything else is unimportant.” Dick promised his voice holding the weigh of the sun. Jason cried harder, but Dick wasn’t done. “And you don’t have to explain shit to Bruce. You don’t have to, okay?”

"I'm scared he might try to take me away from Talia." Jason admitted, "She wasn't the best but she was trying."

Bruce would take one look at his back, would see the scars that crossed his shoulders and he would make certain Talia never looked at Jason again. Bruce wouldn't care that Talia had flogged him to protect both him and Damian, he would just see violence and assume child abuse. And Jason didn't know if he could stop Bruce, not after the man got something in his head.

"No one will tear you away from Talia." Dick promised, and he sounded sincere too.

Jason launched himself into Dick, pressing his face into Dick’s chest and sobbing. Dick held him like that all night, gently rubbing the younger’s back.

***

Jason spent a little under a week at Dick’s place before deciding to return to the manor. Dick had taken him on the back of his motorcycle. He had told Jason that he would be happy to be there with him when he talked to Bruce, but Jason had shook his head.

It was a Saturday, so Bruce was home, sitting in his office. Jason didn’t stop to say hi to Talia or Damian, just came into the office.

Bruce was reading over some papers, but stood immediately when Jason came in.

For a terrifying moment Jason though Bruce might try to hug him, the way that he was coming towards Jason. But Bruce must have read Jason’s face and stopped himself short of extending his arms around Jason.

“Jaylad.” Bruce said, exhaling everything.

Jason tensed, he hadn’t been called that in years, “Don’t, please.”

Bruce opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. His jaw clamped shut and Bruce nodded mechanically.

“You said you wanted to see me.” Jason said lamely, he couldn’t think of anything better to say.

Bruce nodded slowly, and suddenly he was nodding more vigorously. 

“Yes. Yeah,” Bruce was stumbling over himself, gone was the composed Bruce Wayne and the stoic Batman. This was the real Bruce always awkward and always truing, “Do you want to sit?”

Jason shook his head.

“Right, okay.” Bruce whispered, leaning against his desk. Bruce’s hands were gripping the ledge of the desk so tight the knuckles were white. He kept looking at Jason, as if he wanted to hug him. “So, how have you been?”

Jason just stared at him for a long minute. That was really the first thing he was going to ask?

“Well I’ve been better, but I’ve been worse too.” Jason shrugged.

“Jay.” Bruce’s voice was shaky, “Jason, I am so sorry. You don’t even know. And there isn’t anything I can say to fix this…”

“Your right, there isn’t.” Jason shot out bitterly.

Bruce nodded, as if acknowledging the he deserved that statement.

“I know, I know. And I wish more than anything I could go back, I wish so many things Jason.”

Jason nodded tightly, this wasn’t going how he had expected it to. He was expecting to argue, to yell, but Bruce just looked on the verge of crying.

“I can tell there are things that you want to ask me. Go ahead.” Bruce said softly.

There were so many things Jason wanted to ask. He had made a list when he was in the league, after he found out about the Joker’s continued state of alive. They had been accusation for a nasty fight, but that didn’t seem right here. Not with Bruce looking like he is about to cry.

“Why is the Joker still out there? Why did you let him get away with killing me? Didn’t you care, didn’t you want justice?” Jason didn’t cry when he asked, he was so dried up from crying at Dick’s he might never cry again.

Bruce’s jaw set and a fire burned behind his eyes.

“I wanted the Joker to pay more than anything, I wanted to kill him for what he did to you, but if I did than I would’ve been no better than him. And I wanted to be better, I wanted to be better for you.” 

Jason wanted to laugh cold and bitterly, because that was bullshit. But he couldn’t bring himself to, he just stared at Bruce. Bruce who simultaneously looked ready to destroy the world and to throw himself off a bridge.

“And my replacement?” Jason asked.

Bruce looked as if he had been punched in the gut. He stood straight, his hands letting go of the desk in an instant. Jason shifted into a defensive pose, and Bruce stilled, his hands clapping to his sides.

“Tim was never a replacement.” Bruce assured him, it didn’t sound real, “You are irreplaceable Jason. He is his own Robin, like you were your own Robin compared to Dick.”

Jason nodded tensely.

“Jason, can I give you a hug?” Bruce sounded lost, like a scared child. Jason immediately shook his head no. He wasn’t ready for that.

Bruce sighed like he had been expecting that answer, but looked upset by it anyway, “Jason, I don’t know what happened when you were away. I don’t know anything, but I want you to know that I am sorry. I known I will never be able to make it up to you, but I will do everything in my power to prove that to you.”

“Even if I did something terrible?” Jason asked, his mind flashing to Lana, to Maurice, to the dozens of others that died at Jason’s hands. 

“No matter what you did, I will always be your father, and I will always love you.” Bruce promised solemnly.

And then Alfred stepped into the room. He looked at Jason and then at Bruce, “I suppose we all know each others identities now.”

“You knew?” Bruce asked, his tone accusing and betrayed.

“I knew as soon as you walked through the door, but I could tell you needed your time. I am glad you have finally returned to us.” 

Jason smiled, after four years away, he had finally returned home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only accept awkward and useless Bruce Wayne. He is my baby and he is trying so hard. I love him.


End file.
